From The Sky Of The Inevitable

indeed it seems as though we may have stumbled
on what may be remembered as the greatest of days
the greatest of ways to become gods
but
fuck all that
the wheels are turning
and the motor is churning
the fields are burning
and there is no returning
the wild night is calling
and heaven is falling
from
the
sky
from the sky that blends milk and honey
sending it down so sweetly upon our parched lips

great monuments of/to glory are walking
through the gardens of fossilized vanity
holding their noses at the stench we've left behind
but
fuck all that
there is greed that needs deceiving
and desire left needing
there is laughter that sits singing
and sins left for feeding
there is fortune here for selling
and a hunger left bleeding
from
the
sky
from the sky that darkens at the first sign of
dreams that might possibly, maybe, someday come true