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Ouroboros
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Noah Gundersen
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There’s a hole in the ceiling where the weather gets in It’s been there for ages but you try and pretend That it’s just a reflection of the hole in the floor That fills up with water every time that it storms Clutching a copy of “The Power of Now” and humming your favorite song “Isn’t she lovely” the blind singer said and kept on repeating though nobody answered him There’s a chorus of killers singing outside your door The sciеntist prophesied all that’s in store For king and for country as you fall on your sword Thеn wonder at all of the blood on the floor The essence of history, the balm of desire, the snake that keeps eating its tail On the sinking titanic, the quartet kept playing as into the ocean, the pride of an empire sank How can I tell you the secret if I don’t remember the words? How can we keep playing favorites when who’s to say what we deserve? All of our heroes are famous but Superman died in a chair If any among you is blameless, you can cast the first stone but I can’t keep pretending to care There’s a clock somewhere counting the hours and days That make up the memory of all our mistakes And who’s guilty conscience will carry the weight of the future unwritten on the filthiest plate? Your humanist dogma, your Christian belief aren’t really that different at all If something from somewhere is guiding your steps, what will you do if you’re wrong?
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