The tides of sin draw tighter and brighter.
The hours become heavier and weighted.
And the shadows smile, dark and wild.

This is when hope and desire collapse.
The arc of the dream descends into despair.

When innocent lovers dance,
like angels on fire.

This is when the night comes down.
A hammer on an anvil.

And the only absolution accepted
is a legacy of brutality.

A single note rings
on and on
and on...

Here dwells a snake, one thousand miles long,
coiled one thousand miles deep.

Eyes like candy: hard and blue,
soft as kittens’ feet.
Out of sight or in the element of light.

It could be a devil.
It could be an angel.
Spiders inside, a vision from hell.

Its spine is a vertical scream,
slow as concrete, blurred as a dream.
It spins round and down on an axis of atrocity,
fueled by inertia, depth, radius, velocity.

Its soul: a twisted wreckage of despair and pain.
The spiders inside pray for rain.
Killing time.
Killing time.
Praying for rain.

One thousand miles deep...