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The Last Red Shoulder
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Rotor wash stirs the desert Only a shadow of myself Coated in the grey powder that once was people Gore splattered chassis are matted by acid rain After touring the many mass graves reserved for children who were raped and shot in the head Not even sharks offer up their own young I want to hear you scream until it becomes the flat drone of tinnitus Until the ground is Pollacked with your offal and blood I want to see you leave this life screaming and find nothing afterwards The air swells with a flat thrum Glass shivers in it's panes Now your house is ruins upon the ruins of Bamiyan's idolatry Your history begins with your prophet, but it dies here with you Templars of raven fly over, until there's only wasteland not even graves Bleeding out the wounds to my heart seamed with razor wire Make orphans a generation doped by lofting reefs of smoke Riddle your graves with bullets and sink them into the desert The last red shoulder on a sea of blood
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