God Is Seven (Man Magnanimous)

All praise to the righteous
Pyrite might turned finite Midas
Sky writers on night fits
Fine tuned types on that grind ignited

Shining. Diamond islands of light
Hype on assignment. Science of life
Mine inclines to boast elastic reach
Then hone skillcraft for masterpieces

Camphor cool in the candelabra
Handles looped on the amphora
Mantle groomed for the amber opera
Samples tuned to examples of

Speed through the breach where the sirens tempt
And peak 'til you peace in that ambulance
Seek answer in each breath
Breathe easy when there's one left

I lay the ground beneath. You don't take that from me
I sew the scraps with seams. You don't take that from me
I lace the sound with speech. You don't take that from me
You don't take that from me

Man magnanimous, take that ope'
Bag right. Handle it. Raid that sack
Closely. Probe. Dismantle. Then proceed
Short sheets catch Zs. Don't sleep

Load that locus. Crack Code Black open
Skeleton key crocus
Bone up and brace for the moment
Reduce and glaze with the potent

Contort the voiceless speech into the meter
Piece that lead through the teeth and when the eager
Capsule, charged and electric in the ether
Ports through the pre and then red lines meters

Hold heat casual. Speak so sheep
Freeze when this upright animal bares
Steel wool mandible, channels the beast
And feasts on flammable meat

I lay the ground beneath. You don't take that from me
I sew the scraps with seams. You don't take that from me
I lace the sound with speech. You don't take that from me
You don't take that from me

I can tell how it happens
Bright lights strike in a vacuum
Flash through cracks in the cabinet
Bone white skull catching synapses
Exploded to fragments
Lapsed and exposed to the abscess
Cast in the pull of a magnet
Dispersed into endless blackness

So I can tell how it all ends
All of the effort and passion
All endurance and passage
Dashed to the fragile annals of past tense
All motion and language
Torched in the flames into ashes
Fraction, footnote, food scrap
Footprint, figment, has been

And for all that action
Scrapped and disposed in a trash bin
No promotion or pageant
Only gasps in that crass end
And you won't know when it's happening
And you won't know when it's happening
And you won't know when it's happening
And you won't know when it's happening