A little something in the style of Maynard – Tool.
Oh, why can’t Q be sober,
Why’s he clawing through the walls?
Why can’t Q just end it all—
Break the pattern, break the order,
Hear the echo when he falls.
See him grab his pistol—
(the will, the wrath, the force)
And fire shots into the ground,
(to wake the sleeping earth,
to fracture every course)
Poisoned rats and clutter,
Triggered, staggered mental drain—
I’m breaking every pattern,
Till the chains don’t look the same.
I am just a piece of shit,
(a ghost inside my skin)
Trust in me and watch me slip,
Feel the tremor as I spin.
Feel the weight of all my gravitas,
Let it pull you into sound;
Hear the thunder in my footsteps,
As I pound into the ground.
Why can’t we overthink it over,
Trace the shadows we once shoulder?
Let the storm inside grow quiet,
Let our tired souls grow older.
Sinister †Publications 
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