Chasing false energy
Fearing the enemy
“Without money you’re mine”
Unaware of his collected fines
I may risk falling back
But it is Me he lacks
He can buy my body
Make my stance shoddy
My soul is not for sale
Now We know your dark tale
Pure fiction told as news
Accepted by a broken crew
He tries to work us to death
As the fumes take our breath
But we are the fire and air
Beating like a Goliath snare
Pound us and we reverberate
A distant sound that devestates
The bitter minds of guardians
Seeking homeward winds
So push me back 1000 steps
Recreate my former mess
Snap my spine to shards
Shuffle my deck of cards
I only need but one to win
For you need more than ten
Keep rolling your fated dice
And trust your greedy mice
Clay The Scribe 