You are here.

Perched far above on your high stone balcony,

You look down upon the city with the scope pressed to your eye

Selecting your next victim.

You preach lies in the park.

You speak of absolution like you're sorry for your sins,

Yet the mountains believe you. 

You paved the sky. 

Black nights are spotted with dashed yellow line

And skid marks from tires instead of stars. 

On these streets I run to escape you. 

Are those your foot steps?

I hide in an alley to avoid the storm,

But it does not stop me from hearing the sound of your thunder.

You try to drown the universe. 

I fall asleep with raindrops on my head. 

I wake to a flood,

you presence is known.