Enemy's surround but I'm high with a crown of clouds
born with late bone growth but lips balloon, a big mouth
my breath is small for lungs smoke drowned, though the sound is loud
soul grounded, I stand on both, external roar crushing transparent gore
jot down remnants in the hope that the road cements
living bereavement of, misplaced, mistimed sentiments
sorry father I need to repent, I'm lost again in a need to lament
I hate the bile spit even the gland from which the saliva was sent
but home is where the heart is, I can't afford to relent, breath pent
with no way to vent so board the doors I'm storming gates
with lightning, Zeus raised someone to whom he can relate
an elevated electrified haze to fog the static chimed maze
all in an futile attempt to train regeneration to cure the mental drain
thank you father for your pain, for I now have faith in the rain
to quell the compulsion to ride blazing saddles, watered will just to refrain
for your scars from past battles are deeply ingrained 'pon a mortal brain
a world on fire, I know now to pray for a paddle, for liquid desire comes from the afraid
like sleep for those already lain, this knowledge comes from those you have slain
but in this staticity I remain feeling deposited in this labyrinth in which I've decayed
and with negligible resentment I've cursed your name inciting the bane
to gain the vile hiss of propane to turn this tomb into rubbled terrain
from these flaws I fail to abstain, for this I regret to say we'll stay disdained.