The Dance

Dancing on the head of a pin,

in a decadent hell.

the world feeds in a frenzy

to its own self destruction.

you'd think they'd see

their empire's falling down.

     In the land of plenty, or so they say

     everythings free, no price to pay.

     but cost are high, paid out in blood

     and we sell our souls,

     for another day.

          The tears they run, down your face.

          you've just realized your abandoned faith,

          but still dance on to an oblivious fate.

               You try to scream, but can not speak

               your tear your flesh, and watch it bleed

               yet you plant the seeds of your disease.

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