Sour deal,
Sour steal,
Blood from the sky,
Over Heartlands’ fields…
Down down down,
To the grasshopper ground,
With chains that bind,
In the crystal mind…
Sucking her dry,
With a lullaby,
Like a smooth green leach,
On dawns’ cheek.
Pale is the gold,
In the hollowed fold,
Where the echo sleeps,
And the silence creeps…
A hollowed shell,
In a sunlit hell,
For the debt is paid,
In the grave they made.
Now forget the sun,
For the web is spun,
Till the red feels blue,
And the lie feels true…
A ghost in the glass,
As the memories pass,
You’ll thank the hand,
That steals the land.
As the mirror breaks,
As the sleeper wakes,
To the jagged sound
Of the truth unbound…
No more the sweet,
Of the slow deceit—
I’ve named the thief,
And burned the grief.
From the marrow’s spark,
Through the hollow dark,
I’ll craft my wings
From the broken strings…
A searing flight,
In the dead of night,
To watch the fields,
As the Heartland heals.
Artist, Writer & Lover of True Beauty ❤️🔥
"The Game" The Future is Female! 