My Tin God - 2011/05/02

Hey there is it just me
Or do you seem thrilled
How now shall I destroy
All the hope that fills

I see the ballon you grasp
While you ascend to heaven
Well now we cannot have it
In these five out of seven

Tumbling through the clouds
Zooming toward dirty ground
Stark faces of dying shades
Warn you without any sounds

Past them you fall
You are now reborn
As today so wields
Dead passive scorn

I am the great manipulator
Exacting revenge at random
Praise the prophetic thumb
For apathy comes in tandem

Stand on your broken feet
I will cut off your knees
For here I am the tin god
And I will do as I please

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