In the End, Everything's in Blood
(Jonathon, Johnny 6-Feet, Maven., Baron P. Mortuus)
Narrator:
"In the early depths of time, death was prime,
soon you will find, the plead from mankind"
Johnny 6-Feet:
The chant starts, dark hoodies mark the ring of the cult
A circle of satanists, heads bowed, sing insults
Against whatever's good, pure and holy:
"Someone unfold me!
I'm tied up against this altar, petrified and lonely!"
The leader in red robes, in his eyes a speck glows
Of hatred of all life, his clammy skin is stretched, cold
He throws his head back, firelight catches his bold dome
A sacrificial knife in his hand, made to send my soul home
"Mueren, Mueren, Meuren! Fur Los Illuminados!
Te voy a hacer picadillo!"
This power comes at a cost
He steps forward armed raised, the girl stifles a shriek
Gunshots ring in the silence, and he twists, blood leaks
The followers look to the balcony, this soldier stands ready
Metal shards tear through their ranks, he keeps his hands steady
They flee in an instant, as he drops to the ground
"Es hora de rezar!"
He says "Do not make a sound.
I've been sent to rescue you, i'm an goverment agent
The president sends his regards."
"My father?"
"That's the arrangement.
Come on let's get the out of here, no need to shout in fear,
There's a chopper deployed westwards from this hemisphere
I'll protect you Ashley."
"I've got no doubts that you could
But first, tell me, why did this happen?"
"Because in the end, everything's in blood."
Narrator:
"From midevil periods, these evil blood spillings
Chills trickle down the spines of many included in the killings"
Maven.:
the sun rose early today and I was already exhausted;
one who'd surely decay from rays steadily toxic
to my pale skin that's been so for five hundred years
of redundant tears for friends who deserted my fears
with jeers about garlic and that whole Christian thing
wishing I could see the future in an omniscient ring,
but I can't-
and there's only one release in my enslavement
to drain necessary evil from where arteries save it
I indicate that it's a livelihood; survival instinct
exists where feelings would, but were, on arrival, missing
and ever since I can remember it's been life without death
caused by hunger to dismember kids and stifle their breath
younger and younger they get, but that's only in relation
to my immortal station inflicting endless trepidation
and captivation of cults and pop-culture analysts
who make a living wondering if I really exist
but the question is not whether I do, it's whether I should
bother with existence when in the end...
...everything's in blood.
Narrator:
"Everything and everyone is found guilty
Blood stains and dried blood making everything filthy
And even now, its still occuring daily with fury
Proven true, by the verdict of the jury."
Baron P. Mortuus:
I was trotting down Maypole road, shadows
gathering around the surrounding meadows
walking past café’s selling molded croissants
rash driving knocking down dominos- poignant
with nougat treats treating my throat with sweet
sugar coated beads & walnuts spreading first
in my mouth then falling on the street dirt
then searing heat tendrils grabbed at my trachea
coughing up blood- I dropped the products in fear
steered to the side to lie down & abide instructions
got myself in a safety position, listing all obstructions
functions of bodily parts in conjunction to start
a fight against the walnuts that cart towards my heart
a simple treat, delicacies tripped by an allergic thud
strip the events & conclude everything’s ended in blood
Narrator:
"These stories ring a bell, becasue we are in a living hell
Singing gun shots fling, bloody pavement, giving help
to being real in our minds, as they unwind we find
there is no way to hide, besides impersonating the blind.
We don't see these things, they are thoughts of madness
believing this all honestly, up until sad shit happens."
Jonathon:
Wearing green on St. Patricks day, proudly, but sadly
I miss my family, its my anniversary, how bad could a dad be?
Two sons and a daughter, many miles across the water
Sent off to leave them, to here, for me to slaughter
Many calibers ripping at my tent, malicious creatures galore
Urban cement sets a scent of doom, I miss my features before
This war, I now live my life in horror, my eyes are sore
From crying, trying to live life to the fullest but its ending short
This must be some sort of evil, we fight for the flag & eagle
How can so many things can be bad, but being killed can be legal
So many friends and people, blood dripping from bodies
Unidentifiable men, lay there, here, everwhere with bags bodied
Souls lost, but not forgotten, or so we think at least
Sounds of shots buzzing won't decease, as if an invincible beast
Was the metaphor, but its killed before so it must be alive
Its not a game anymore, its playing with your will to survive
Or you'll just be with your friends, clinging to the mud
...until in the end, when everything's covered in blood.
_____________________________
Footnote: The narrator is Jonathon. Good job to all of you who participated. I would greatly appreciate feed, this is lengthy, I know. I will leave feed on any piece as thoroughly as possible.
Once again, thanks guys.
