The Rifle's Spiral

Dead lungs command it
You pour your life down the rifle's spiral
And show us you've earned it
Cleric's fog will recede right before your eyes.

So long to this wretched form
Them grey eyes on the subway
Long before you were born
You were always to be a dagger floating
Straight to their heart.

Listen, now, we won't tell anyone
But you're gonna tell the world
So life ain't then any fun
Let your viscera unfurl.

As you rise; rise from your burning fiat
Go, go get my suitcase, would you
You've thoroughly blown their minds
And now I must have passage on the lines
To the veins from your heart.

You're not invisible, now
You just don't exist
Your mother must be so proud
You sublimate yourself, granting us a wish.

Primitive mirror on the wall
to fortify your grim resolve
And made the glitz of a shopping mall
another grain of indigent salt for the sea.

Good night to these wretched forms
All them gray eyes on the subway
So long before you were born
you were always to be a dagger floating
straight to their heart.