samedi 3 avril 2010

battle scars

pile up the parched bones
roll them in parchment
make glue from the cartilage
bond hieroglyphs to soul

when you wake up
i shall take radiographs
bright spots on the nebula
men become idiots

love yourself love a soldier
when i hear the modern slogan
my mental projector starts up
i feel rashes and mosquito bites

in the x-ray of each fresh recruit
will burn the neuronic images
i carry a pack on my back as if i own it
i've got eyes for cameras

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