Trumpets of Death

Now I'm inclined to conclude contradiction
I'll go insane if I don't make this distinction
So everything follows this basic interpretation
And life finds existance in the amalgamation
Of notes following pauses

Beats being broken by noise
Days constantly evolving
Into being
But seeing
Seems to require
Two distinct visions
Of everything
Which is also nothing
The light in my eye
Requires darkness
At the back of my mind
My days draw another line
In the sands of time
Slowly leaving me behind
For I can only live if I die

But I never die

Now I feel like I'm Adam
God loves me but hates me as well
And
I am he so therefore saddened
When I sound my own trumpets of death

And so I attempt to catch my own breath
I am the Eve that helps myself resurrect
Every second when I've escaped the clutches
Of my soul being bereft
How many sides do I have left
How many shades of this blackness
Can one expect
But I accept
The light only existing
Because of the persisting
Of all the distress
I detest the thought
Splitting the one's and nought's
Of programmed process
That I only live if I die

All this distress I detest the thought

Now I feel like I'm Adam
God loves me but hates me as well
And
I am he so therefore saddened
When I sound my own trumpets of death

I choose my prison and the name
I feel free to swing my mental chains
Clanging between my bleeding ankles
But blinging gold when I change up the angles