Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.219.241.228
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
We dream of rain... 
And the mystery of the gun
We bold hold and driven apart 
Kill the king when lovers depart
We dream of rain and the dark arts
Upon an endless sea, across an infinite A’merican waste…

A White House in the middle of Prussia a red square, fifty-two sons of the revolution, hundred of souls of the damned, we gather together to war on finite sands. We dream of rain under the desert sun, we hold the past, behold the last, one of these, we are the past, we look through to you. We are the last, we bold hold during the setting sun. We are the last. 

We drive engines of mechanical wyrms, steam demons that burrow through. Deep inside sand on the infinite sea. We are the first, last, and always, nine while nine hold the throne. Bitter are the ones of your enemy’s cast. We sing this song of corruption, we sing empire down. Kill the king while lovers watch. The empire is in throws, the Mericans are bold and hold the line in the sand. A black house of a distant earth. 

A white dress, the Empress of Nothing, nothing to hold. We are the last and always. We watch the red planet rise over your shoulder, we see the embers smolder. We are the kindred of the Last. Sing empire down. When lovers depart. They kill the beast in the sands where the steam of its heart bleeds. The Leviathan and of the sand and sea. Sing out our hearts, demand! Eurasia in turmoil the Blades of the One. 

The Land of the Gun. Hangs heaven in the hands of the killers, as lovers depart. Law of the Land, the rule of the Gun. The law of man. We dream of rain in a righteous land. One with the Gun.  Under a righteous Son. Someday, someday, someday, Dominion! I'm living in films for the sake of Prussia. 

A Kino-Runner for the Dre-Karr, And the fifty-two daughters of the revolution is bound for treason, Turn the gold to chrome, a Gift... with nothing to lose, Stuck this side of Memphis with you in a mobile home, sing: 

Mother Prussia, Mother Prussia. The Way of the Gun. The Rights of the West. We dream of rain. And the mystery of the gun. We bold hold and driven apart 
Kill the king when lovers depart. 

We dream of rain and the setting sun. Flood lands and driven apart…

Reprise III

An ode to the sisters who show mercy…
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required