The Ghost of a Dinosaur to the Son of a Gun

What’s the ghost of a dinosaur to the son of a gun?
It’s a reason to leave his chamber
Down the falls out of a barrel

Poison made from mother’s whomb
Blacken her veins
Dizzy her head

Running scared by a spark
Old spirits wander the dark
This metal body is not my own

Raised by the blade
Forged by the Id
Veruca salt in her wounds

But what is a life
When it’s oceans away
My brothers and sisters are oil

What could we expect from the son of a gun?
We are children playing with matches
Perfectly flawed
Beautifully broken
Still in the chaos
Peace in the frenzy
Patiently human
We are one in the moment
And forever

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s