Insanity

Morning glory, The mountains stand in brown nudity, There's no shame in being mighty echoes the wind, The air is taut with the brooding silence of a storm, It will rain tears sooner or later, And the roar of affliction will cut through the silence, The rage of war will be a din, Churning cataracts of unceasing wants, Our hunger refuses to be quenched, We are obsessed with ambition, Drunk with desire, To taste the elusive glory, Of phantoms dancing on the apex, Like shifting hues playing charades with overdosed pride, We chase the wind and fight for the mountains, Who will speak sense to our senselessness? Who will stop us from storming the gates into the city of madness? Who will stop us from claiming the lofty place of dark desire, As we sit on the throne of insanity?