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IN THE MACHINE
When you're in the machine, the world is hid and we keep what we don't want out with metal plating and metal ribs guns for the ghosts and the doubt. It's a world on wheels, and Lord is it dark when the hatches are locked all 'round the light in your eyes is from the spark that burned their houses down. I take what's right at the end of a gun as I've taken the steel from the earth and the earth yields up from the grip of the stones a power procured with a curse. When you're in the machine, the smoke of hell perfumes the deadened air the ring, ring, ringing of the bell is the end of the affair. |