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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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I realized that not everyone can visit my Brain Dump, so I've decided to post some of it here. Sorry if this is a lot at once.

 

 

To become Prometheus Unbound

Tumble down Caucasus to the ground

Brush yourself off and have a few drinks

Well what do you know right now; what do you think?

 

"Was it worth it to you?", we'll ask with aplomb

"Was it wort it to you to give us the bomb?"

 

 

Prometheus Unbound, what have you found?

Would you do it again; would you weather the pain

Would you even keep me around?

Or would you take back all of the black weary days you had to spend down

Prometheus Unbound

 

 

Look around Prometheus Unbound

You're renowned Prometheus Unbound

The world ends; and there isn't a sound

Well thanks for nothing Prometheus Unbound

 

Well I know all of your gifts where broke from the start

And that one branch of fire doesn't set us apart

 

Prometheus Unbound, what have you found?

As your cities sink in the sea; crumble down, down to the ground

Would you take back all of the black weary days you had to hanging around

Prometheus Unbound

 

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God never lied to me,

though he often left out details for my own protection

 

The Profit never led me astray

But he never quite managed to point me in the right direction

 

And Buddha never done me wrong

Though I was never quite able to find perfection

 

So now where do I turn, where do I go

When the winter blows and buries my house in snow?

Can the salvation of man be so apropos

And can man trade his idols in a clever quid pro quo

And save himself instead; a mighty gift to bestow

On such an undeserving creature as man.

 

(Has there been greater Justice since this world began?)

 

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What say you rotting ginsberg?

What wisdom do you pass from beyond the grave?

Now that you are joined with the infinite and the worms

what truths have you learned?

From your place beyond this universe;

what truths?

 

What was it like to become part of god?

 

My brothers and I are all failures.

Chewed up and spat out, but still alive.

Perhaps better to have died.

We wander around these too clean streets

dreaming only of filth,

and all our songs are filth

but we sing them still.

 

All of my sisters are liars

They know a tune that they will not sing

Everyone of their faces is smiles,

but they're drowning their pillows in tears

 

rotting ginsberg you failed to mention all of this.

 

Every road ends eventually and leaves you only beat.

What do you do when there are no roads left I wonder?

When your thumb is worn out; there's no traffic for days.

 

The bucket that held all my dreams has a leak,

I can not recall when they all trickled out;

And all the wells have gone dry.

My digits grow cold

and my hands can not hold.

 

Rotting ginsberg I hope we never meet.

 

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I met God face to face and offered him a cigarette,

asked him to sit down, if he'd maybe like a chat

And so he sat and for a while we talked of this and that

Until the moon crept 'top the treeline, I remember it was fat,

And a moonbeam struck his eye, and he looked about to cry.

I can no longer weep, I supposed that's why I'm not divine.

 

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I've realized it means nothing to be penniless in a bankrupt world.

And that the plan won't be revealed or unfurled

And they're going to hold on to it.

And you're going to have to find it out on your own. Alone. We're alone.

 

Now I'm talking to myself on the phone

And I don't like the words that I'm hearing

But it's all the result of my rearing,

All the blame conveniently diffused

Does that mean all my faults are excused?

Does that mean I've been disabused?

 

"Doubtful", that voice says, amused.

 

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God isn't old, he's young

as ageless as a beam of light

And he's screaming at me from the Sun

Crying out ,"It'll be alright!"

But the vastness of space is dumb

and the vision of a man is slight

A truth so often shunned

But its bright white light in the night.

 

 

And I'll do what I have to do to fight

For that bright white light in the night.

Without any malice or spite

For that bright white light in the night.

I pray that the words I write

Find that bright white light in the night.

That the words may somehow ignite

That bright white light in the night.

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