Written while really bored in a Aerodynamics lesson… wondering randomly how some people don’t seem to pay a lot of attention to things around them, and some people pay too much…
Under the cruel sun,
He will watch them come.
Across the wasteland,
Cross the tortured sand.
Carrying their cold hearts, blind,
And the lies they use to ease the mind.
Watches and learns,
Dust to dust, the wheel will turn.
The watchman sees all their empty souls,
And hates this burned out world, so cold.
And cannot connect, no he will not connect,
This is not the place where his dreams are kept.
Watchman,
See the world is not your own.
Watchman,
See that nothing here is home.
Well, aluminium shines,
With surface oxidised.
And he can see in,
So why can’t he get in?
And returns to the state,
Watches and waits.
His time will come,
And he can see heaven.
With the serpent in the garden,
The blood will thicken.
And there are better places,
Left the world in stasis.
Watchman,
See the world is not your own.
Watchman,
See that nothing here is home.
Watchman,
There’s nothing here you can call yours.
Watchman,
Silently keeping scores.