Sequestered points of balance, metal quick to melt down.
Rhythmic explorations martyr it's steely style for melody.
Scraped, no friction; sans no science fiction,
because the whiteness of reality always winds up in the light.
Withering apocalyptic grape clusters still clinging
fast to the vine as Bacchus belches and staggers away.
Dissimilar similarities changing continuous like
wild flowers in the desert. (One dies, one will rise...)
Life's dependent on the rain,
allow fluctuation in your flow of frustration on your
yellow brick road of life.
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