Moths & Flies

Racing through the floods
of thumb tacks in the dark
Knives run out, now (we're) one with the fight
With all twist end might
Weightless kicks end grips
With four-five staring wide
Never think
Never blink
They were all sleep
The eyes never see it’s head
Never die
Never dream
Never run free
The geze completely in shreds
Falling forth still (and) all minds on line
(Yet) no heerts in mind
Summon holy sprinter (to) lead us through the night
Handshakes are some broke men’s endgame
Just moths and flies will preveil
But here’e time end time will always leave out, all behind