Blood For Breakfast, Nails For Lunch, Souls For Dinner, Hell For Snacks

Insane is the brain Cerebral in infinity Without endless thoughts Counting backwards To cascade forward What is reality of the mind And what is pure illusion of the heart I make believe that what I say exists But a figment is fruit from the Gods Given to mortals as trickery Promethius was tricked into death By living again each day I was fooled into breathing By a soul reaper who Breathed a mystery Into me, like a gold coin Rare and precious in the hand Held for decades into admiration So is the thoughts of a human What we have created as our id Has grown past manifestation into mast By overpopulating culture or just cult Not so secrative is the imagination Not so quiet is the ravenous howls of Humanity barking for the royal flesh Of a new meat from the wishbone Dying to be more than just ourselves