Finality In Throes

Trapped, locked up, nullified.
No longer can I hold my bride.
Memories fading like my eyes.
Soon I’ll meet the great divide.

If only tales were parallel with truth.
Then maybe I might once more drink proof.
But alas such is not so.
And its far too late to go.
For hours are whittled.
Bones have become brittle.
So leave me here to hear my death song.
I welcome my end but hope for my enemies Armageddon.

Weakened, dispelled, nullified.
Let those bastard drown in high tide.
Hope has dwindled unlike their cries.
Welcome autocrats to the downfall of your pride.

If only tales were parallel with truth.
Then maybe I might once more drink proof.
But alas such is not so.
And its far too late to go.
For hours are whittled.
Bones have become brittle.
So leave me here to hear my death song.
I welcome my end but hope for my enemies Armageddon.

Putrid festering force they call divinity.
Stripped out sense and unbridled civility.
Replaced by devotion to an unjust set of hands.
The kind that occupy themselves with scams.
Wrenching life from those deemed unworthy.
All while turning innocence to perversity.
That’s why this flood cannot come soon enough.
For under it their bodies will be wholly crushed.

If only tales had been parallel with truth.
Then maybe I might have drunken proof.
But alas such was not so.
And its far too late to now go.
For hours are whittled away.
Bones have become brittle wholly.
So leave me here to hear my death song.
I welcome my end but smile at Armageddon.