By The Skin Of Our Coral Reef

Chapter 4--Breather

A Heaving Coal Plant

Rich or Poor

When my throat is dry

There's a town on the edge of existence
Where the people disregard all thought
And the outsiders stare at them,
As their bodies turn to rot.

There's a house in this town with only boarded windows
Every stair, every floorboard, every shutter still creaks
This is a town where no one ever speaks

No, the sun never shines on this town
Every face has melted away, emotionally undefined
Their lives, they exist only in their minds

This town has no laws and no crime; it lives without time
The past has no place, while the future can only crawl
The worst of these people are better than us all

This is a town that has no roads
It is the end of for those who have no souls
Where there is only black snow
Known only as The Apocalypse Show

The figures are desolate, hunched over in the snow
Packs of feral dogs hunt the kinder for their meals
While the outsiders gaze down from their grandstands of steel

They watch over their barbed-wire walls
With insatiable blood-lusts
In hopes to find the first child who falls

Expressionless fathers watch their sons die, with blackened eyes.
This town knows no difference
And the outsiders grow bloodthirsty, at the end of existence

This is a place where no one is fed
With Third Reich bodies and hollowed out heads
Where only dirt and mud can be made into bread

It is the tomb for all liars and cheats
Moors and murderers, society's elite
This is a place where only the privileged can weep.
The founders of this place, are the last of the free.
And where does that leave us, you and me?
We're the ones that burn bodies and follow no creeds
With our precious souls that blacken like burnt leaves
We are self-consciously righteous and live without heed

If Rome is the end for all roads,
Then this town is the end for all.


The Apocalypse Show

Making Sense

Tragedy on the Eve of the Barbecue

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