charged and on the wing unperturbed and cackling a covey of fledglings thwart the pitchfork and the torch
take into the lost account that fuels the head to raise the dead honor sits the monolith on wretched beams, it hurts to see we built it up until it swallowed what surrounds, so i ask instead: could you break it down?
housecat tactics let us live outside and the small sedition helped us think for ourselves
born enclosed, we were cast by those foreign hands the heavy weight which owns our name it masquerades we felt this sinking dark feeling then and now at least i can see the ghost in the gears somehow