Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Helicon Hail

Helicon Plasma Hnozzle

Rocks falling through the paper trail,
Holly holly, xmas is going to fail,
The ol’ pale face is looking more pale.

Somethin’ cold following our trail,
Leading us from behind the hive,
Helicon Hellstorm, Hector’s alive.

Eyes ahead, seeing the way yet to thrive.
Find ourselves, selling cool drinks along the Road.
Find the ones, burying their dreams like the mud-borne toad.

Come along and tow with me, this lifting load.
Come see our killer’s teeth brighten the night.
Come remember why we forgot not to bet on kites.

It’ll be the scene of sight.
We’ll know why we’re here again.
We’ll know the name, friend.

round
bend
found
send

And in the end,
The Beatles will sing youth innocent and forbidden,
Whether Broca, Paladin, Cain, or Biden,

I envy not who will be reign-hung and spit ridden.
I’ve always known I’ll last till we march,
Trudging our arms together through the final, gloriful arch.

A sight of smaller lands, and water for the parched.
Smaller hands probing from the midnight dark.
They will be they, night ended and deemed by morning lark.

And in the ending again, eye to eye, cathartic.
Dreamers will wake, and walkers will fall.
We’ll discover within us both the hammer and mortar for the wall.

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