House On The Water/Flies

Nests of ciphers; decaying roots
Hungry soil stirs for our bones
The house on the edge of the
Water where water no longer runs

Room full of posters
All crooked
Got up and walked through the mess again
Past the kitchen
Where flies live and die
In this house and no one cares
To the couch where
Distractions on either side
Are lying sick with attention

Talking to no one in a darkened room
Winters cold and thеre's barely
Remaining fuеl

Spent with all those who will
Spend their days
Pressed in the ashes
Finding nothing and so there they'll remain
To sift through the ash again

Ashes have gathered
Where the bodies burn
Kept unaware of blind immolation
Walking through fever dreams
Neverending
Structured world with no use
For contrary
And upon a crux there was buried
And along a crux lay there buried

Black iron prison
Every moment, feckless should
Stand and turn to face the
Wash of flames

Spent with all those who will
Spend their days
Pressed in ashes
Finding nothing and so there
They'll remain
To sift through the ash again
Every night

Spent with all those who will
Spend their days
Pressed in the ashes
Finding nothing and so there they'll remain
To sift through the ash again
Every night

Hopeless until they die