To All Things Expendable

and in the beating filth that festers
 a crowing life
 the blocks us in our path
 one step too many
 in the wrong direction
 this night will mark the coming of ends.
 this song is a pulse that ends
 this
 night will mark
 the
 coming of
 train urselves in example of everything
 start something worth while futile
 leave enemies swallowing
 futile worth while
 may our constant lust be a cover up
 for the lack there of
 of equality
 and it wont stay
 no it wont stay
 no it wont
 song of recovery
 knowing
 wasting the time on the fall out
 lets stomp the chains of a soul who needs company too
 no longer with the risks be something we will evolve
 let the tyrant bare in our mouths
 slurrring again,
 to me
 let this wallow
 swallow down
 sorrow recovering love
 swallowing up right where we left it off
 sorrow picks up where we left
 arm the night
 arm the night
 arm the night
 and in these final days
 arm the night
 so we can stop.