Of all the fatal frames that haunt me

In my restless dreams

You cut deeper than the sirens 

That hail the shadow king

Ready to receive the wisdom 

Of the birds without a voice

Unloading every precious bullet 

If given no other choice

Taste a bit of death by daylight

A beacon burns the evil within

Umbrellas spin in gyromancy

To the Azoth's gracious sin

Those Phucking Phoenicians

Dancing is a deceptive art

A lie contorted into hypnotic spell

Implying some meaning or hope of controlling 

This haphazard physical shell

Artwork falls somewhere amidst the ground in the middle

Glimmers of truth somewhere deep and gestalt

With eyes that search and scrutinize blindly

The Carpenter's Tools whom the fault is with not

But then there is the written word

The abstraction birthed Gʔd in full form

A selection of symbols relying on context

Eusocial characters sent into swarm