I’m going to deny everything
and suppress the hollow
threat against me.
There are no ordinary
ways to claim
your way back home.
I haven’t been back in a while,
but I know that the streets still smell
like something old and rotten.
Broken promises,
fermented tears
and fallow gardens.
I’m giving up on you right now,
so you can escape the insurrection.
That which is only the same old
blood and fire that got us here.
The revolution’s coming around
and when it does,
there’s gonna be questions.
There gonna wanna know
the details of the inferno,
but I will deny everything.
I am no cloistered conscience,
I am the fly upon the wall.
That old telltale sentinel
of shit and death.
My proboscis burrowed deep
in the fetid breath
of a thousand soulless lawyers.
Feeding on a million bloated bankers.
Fat for the fire,
so light a candle
in the flatulent atmosphere
and ignite a beacon of freedom
for the poor and desperate.
I have no secret knowledge.
I just know that the blade
moves in a circle,
always coming around again;
always taking a little off the top,
so push yourself up at your peril.
This isn’t the old grind,
this is the final cut
and there’s no hiding the bodies,
there’s no cleaning up the blood.
When God comes this time,
it’s gonna be with fire
and I’m gonna deny everything.
HG – 2016
