Home

Thin desires curse,

I'm afraid that this is my last verse,

tightrope has wrapped around my neck,

I was cheating anyways,

to say the least it was my best,

as the blessed,

condemned for having an odd beat,

they sent me away without a rhyme,

to carry on as a broken down machine,

just to serve the queen.

Now what is home?

Is it a final flame or the cold dirt?

it is the ground on which I give up,

I'll sink into the floorboards, into the queen's cup

as she dismisses the plan, 

I fall together with all those who only forgot,

a simple task,

but they only bask,

in the glory of the kill,

and the breaking of backs,

to rid of any thought,

that may cause them relief.

I move on to double the dosage,

fading away, I place the tombstone where I lay,

a graceful end they all say,

while the reason is in the stone, 

I call Home.