The Dissentience

Down the street half a block away In a familiar place, Regular people agree with each other in smoke signals Down the street half a block away in a familiar place Where regular people all agree with each other Interprets the law as aging With its eyesight failing, the law is aging Oh, sitting across, telling stories, So sit across the table, our eyes unclose like books we've read twice So cry ghost baby So on the shelves lined with spines Dust collects from scattered ash From an urn unturned Spilling over someone regular. And all the such regulars Cry ghost or boast of a friend of a friend Who saw a strange sight, Or heard a strange sound. Now whisper tall tales of murder Down the street, half a block away In a familiar place, with regular people Agree with each other in smoke signals Brought together to burn the that brings them together Interpret the law as aging with its eyesight failing x2 Somebody's little girl Dreams of the things she's read Somebody, somebody's little girl Dreams of the things she's read And the monsters in her bed who hacked her into blood-meat. Somebody's little girl Dreams of the things she read While the monsters in her bed who hacked her into blood-meat. --- The Dissentience - Protest the Hero