At the Marina

They don’t know, not aware

What is driving their happiness?

Blank surface reflects back, unknown doom below

A force weak and ugly

Powerful, hungrier than truth

Hopeless happiness, mankind is unkind

Thrive on hate, let greed flow free

A price paid to remain guilty

The hand that lent the pen might hold the clue

With a deep purple ink the verse of a mad man is recorded

He knows, he is aware

Alive and crazy amongst slaves of fortune, all seeking masters

They gather for wealth, keeping the wheels spinning

Feeding the monkey, prince of vanity

Half breed spawn from the gutter

Willful fools upholding the tradition of stupidity

Circling downwards

If they knew the way of the dark woods

The cause of the violent and desolate Northern woods

Waste becomes life form, dead mass rising producing nil

Find a way, be king of generations

Forgotten at will, no one cares

New unwilling life grows, cycle of inconclusiveness repeated

Ω