Creeping in waking night was fear of fear
and you wanted to accept the defeat retreat,
It gives you solitude of blank space, featureless.
The terrorist mask of blazing guns bribing the absent gods,
for whom you are aiming?
The holy man on road fakes,
crushing the grass lilies getting flattened under the giant wheels.
Moving an bloody toes festering heels
carrying the sacred earth under the nails all night
peeling the time, throwing the skn and waiting for the dust to settle.