Bonefarmer

Fuck them, blood night
The inaugural cut on their flawless skin
Flesh rich, pure strikes
The galleria at the surgeons whim

So abruptly, nothing feels wrong
We are all brought to the same level
When they cry, so assuring, I've made no bad decisions
For once everyone gets their turn
Flailing around like their favorite performers
Their limbs pirouette, detached from their bodies

No return for the weak minded
Confront me and see your true standing

Always carried by the arms of others
The vast miasma barely held together
Endless hoarding, while we had to suffer
Never blameless, no test will be tougher
The final prize, the opulent man
A bloated symbol of supposed winners