On Patrol

time no longer matters,

in this land of no return,

where control of existence

is power,

even among the least of men,

if you listen,

you can hear the thunder

of the demons beating heart,

as it cries out in agony,

for a chance to unleash

its deadly putrid vile;

dreams fill the void,

crossing bridges of despair

over chasms of life,

goddess of the night,

come warm your icy soul

with the heat of lust,

generated by a thousand

beastly cries;

once there was honor,

now there is darkness,

cold, hard, empty,

power with no reason,

other than power,

death with no meaning,

other than death;

angels of light

mourn for lost lovers,

impaled by their existence

to gods who cannot hear;

sleep comes slow,

for those who lay and wait

in their coffins of pain,

as silence stalks its prey,

seeking to devour

its just rewards,

waiting for a dawn

that never comes,

cast down,

into pits of emptiness,

where cold hard reality lurks,

as eagles burst into flames,

and die screaming

their last goodbyes.

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