when cells disband, may they turn to sand, indifferent and fine, timed by moon and sun emotions flooding words are written sand is blown time is knitted mocking birds flown against the grain of the draft flown underground on a craft of mist babies grown to soldiers fists as personal as the sun victims, they will hurt you presiding over a surgeon's curfew insurgents donating livers to explode the patients of an enslaved rock mother nature is a terrorist, coming like a green eyed tiger, pouncing from the jungle on our humble farm of factories, recreation, phylacteries, trying is futility, bend your bones to keep up with the guns, climb your mind faster than the vines of time, or youll fall behind electric shocks from factory clocks biding your time for you causing effects fissures fusion breaks a glass illusion of fear instilled by a mill on the hill of desperation, shouted from a bullhorn like a presiding man's dedication to being a mocking bird, making love with pain, dissecting your nerves like a bug mocking birds making love never touching, singing vines into fine glass waking wine crying silver tomorrows cast into the past slowing fast the war drum rythm trailing coattails of blood and oil for golden coils recrenation, the mirror lies the tv tries to be the terminator mother natures incubator turned up too high for all the passion sons made from sand and clay they wanted you to find a way to see your spiritual destiny, because they never could, and the mirror lies the tv tries to get you in the army starving you through poverty beating the drums with terrorist guns insurging rituals of boiling oil, spent on your blood and caramelized reincarmanation, elating umbilical vines fighting against the draft with cloaks of degredation and the mirror lies matt
