Spent On Things

And we dance such a dance. We glide on shallow breath. A dull distracted set dance that only ends upon death. For the greed of comfort and ease: spent on things we do not need.

The bright, the strong, the young, are like bells without rope or tongue. Their words, their days, their deeds all flushed away as one. For the greed of comfort and ease: spent on things we do not need.

For want... For want... For want.

In the evening sky above there's a constant staggered thud and a puss coloured sun weeps onto a blanket of blood. For the greed of comfort and ease: spent on things we do not need.

For the greed of comfort and ease: spent on things we do not need.