Sever the soul There is always a truth in between the lines, Traded in for a minute of respite, In a chaotic world of synchronized happenstance In our neglect of that which is true, We’ve become masters of pretense, Blurring the lines in our moment of repose And what is left is undeniably infectious, A Severing of the soul and all that we are
Till Kingdom come The onset of passion dictates A veritable explosion of emotions For those who found meaning In companionship and self Joyously floating up into the clouds Awaiting a séance of those who came before In reveries and rituals Till kingdom come