Blah blah blah blah blah;
My name is Armageddon,
weak arms, and nuclear thoughts-
spring box cyclops, unwashed dreadlocks,
lost the the keys and came in through a window,
and no one called the police because
this is such a safe
neighborhood.
Lock your doors or not,
we are coming in now.
The nectar shoots down the roots,
and sweeps sweet fruits from the dirt
to the doorstep, a forced laugh,
footprints all the way to the last
body.
Bury us or not,
we're coming home now.
Tacit compliance as an unspoken alliance,
and where we're going we don't need
the secrecy of prisons,
we need radio silence and people
too distracted to listen.
Well, listen or not,
we're going to scream now.
Gods and kings and their sons and daughters,
and it means nothing if the kingdom burns
like people rot; from the inside, out.
Doing nothing got nothing done,
and if our dictators own the world
we'll destroy that too.
Like it or not,
we're going to riot now.