That piece of flesh, be shielded by the ribs,
is GOD, the Guardian Of Destiny.
For souls that seldom entrust god.
Oh, the rest of the souls as well.
That glass that the flesh looks through.
To sketch strokes on the degree of warmness,
of souls, that thrive along.
Souls that you attempt owning.
Being friendly, the bottom line.
Watch their arteries and elevate your spirit.
Mind their veins and feed the demon.
Taking a stroll with an amigo,
through the meadows,
reliving memories from the past,
bitter – sweet.
Gushes in, the demon. My demon.
For all that I know, I don’t know how it gets awakened.
This mighty demon is solid.
Allowing no loose ends,
it shreds away every nerve I own;
shatters the image I have, of every soul I own.
Leaving me bereft,
of what I thought were the biggest treasures,
I could hunt – Amigos.
That piece that is beaten up hard,
makes a decision once for all.
Mind your own veins and the demon shall elevate your spirit.