Turning Point…
Deceitful white walls are now veering intent
A spark to the readily drying cement
With hair set aflame by the rage of revolt
Each laugh adding men to insanity’s cult
Grabbed by the threatening hand of their god
Now sparked by their anger, once frozen and awed
A god? Beg to differ, control has been cracked
Now a façade, that portrays she’s intact
But no, the machinery’s falling apart
Oil that bleeds from her penniless heart
The hands on the clocks point to iron offense
I’m gliding on edge of the cliff of suspense
For while the tension ties most of us down
This man with the laugh is now claiming his crown
And while the flame in our hands start to ache
He opens his arms and the walls start to break