Dirt - The Amenta

Every morning after

Will be shades of grey

All spotlight sunrise

Or bruised sunset

When the clock stops

And everything is stale and still

And the rust finally shows

On everything we’ve gathered

All of your plans

All of your promises

All those revolutions

Your resolve

All of your power

And all your pride

Will all be nothing

Nothing but dirt

In the end what remains?

Not the body

Nor forgotten hours

Drowned in drink

Our lives flicker

The soul is just

A collusion of senses

It’s just our deeds

That see morning

Book ended by black

We are water dripping

From leaking, rusted taps

The sound of clocks

Twitching through dust

We are

Flickering embers

In dusty ashtrays

We are the dirt

We are just dregs

We are water dripping

From rusted taps

We are dirt

This is all we paint

Blank canvas, blank canvas

Humanity is aches

Creaking joints

Hunched shoulders

Traces of blood on bed sheets

Persistent benign tumours

This is all we paint

All of your power

And all your pride

Will all be nothing

Nothing but dirt

In the end what remains?

Not the body

Nor forgotten hours

Drowned in drink

Our lives flicker

The soul is just

A collusion of senses

It’s just our deeds

That see morning

Book ended by black

We are water dripping

From leaking, rusted taps

The sound of clocks

Twitching through dust

We are

Flickering embers

In dusty ashtrays

We are the dirt

We are just dregs

We are water dripping

From rusted taps

We are dirt