yet yet yet again
a bend bend bend again
spiral matches lighting down
fires burning burning towns
all the endings of the world
girding for the boring burl
may the may the may the tense
be a picket picket fence
where the noses match the dirt
asphalt from the oldest hurt
professing down and down and down
the only direction melt crowns
all that power for the sword
which was sharper prior forge
when aluminum can smell
all the faces circled hell
down and down to literature
an elitist not so sure
give the nod the nod the nod
something that could call back god
all those letters wriggled in
and our mouths our mouths our sin
given up and proven down
more than two direction town
repeat
repeat
the gritty lore
Roman Ryan 