Lions

A dreamscape ruined by corporation.
A friendship ruined by devastation.
And a cold war to top it off.

Our mind is a battleground,
for which the pawns of law might settle.
Our mind is a yearning pool,
and we don't have any fish for it.

An appetite for total control.
A mission to another state of mind.
Rage and hate and bitterness spice up this mix.

Our playground is a death mound,
where we bury our dead in colors,
and let them rise on their own time.
We don't give them instructions to suffice.

Our range is unspecified.
Our love has catapulted out of this array,
and is far beyond our understanding.
It's too far to be too close.
And close enough that you can taste it.
But we know that our hearts lie,
our minds lie,
and our eyes lie double time.

We can't trust ourselves anymore.

"Feed 'em to the ****ing lions,"
they'll say with a cigar smile.
Those Christians are a nuisance to themselves.
Go find it out in the woods.

The treasure will shine in the ground.
Beam of light.
Anxiety gets the best of ya,
and that's all it ever wanted.