Troubling paradise

There's trouble troubling Paradise, who's just transcended from some distant face of god, a ragged-looking sorry lot, accompanied by nerves so shot, it would appear as though they begin to rot, i bandage her with filthy cloths and pray that her blood may clot, and share easy breaths when the bleeding stops, but nothing else, my story i refuse to swap, it's mine until the day i drop, the day my beating heart slows to a rusty, screeching stop. i heard her crying wretchedly, the stench it seemed, was to much to breathe, one thousand bodies bathed in death, stole our breath. she shook my bed, i noticed we were bathed in red, when lights reflected off her head, i noticed the night was ever long, i watched the darkness drag along, and listened to it's lengthy song, he held my interest far too long and before he sought another dawn, he stretched my limbs until limp and long, tied me to a heavy log, and bid me be a faithful pawn, for my task was to right all the wrong, and string the universe into one, in the allotted time he would be gone, chasing down the starry dawn, but her legs were engineered far too long, and she got away from night time's ticking bomb, and almost released the seraphs at dawn, to chase down the songs that would re-right thousand of eons of dawns, thousands of rights that had morphed into wrongs, beating the universe grotesque and oblong, killing the swans and then taking their songs, locking them up to decay and be gone, the world was sure to crumble before long, then i looked across the sky and saw you coming along. You saw me chained to a broken-legged fawn, and saw that my end was merely prolonged, with so many outlets for rights to go wrong, you lifted me up and then pulled me along

Like a baby cast away from a pair of loving arms, and tossed into another that intended to do harm, by beguiling it and rationing charm, you lead it to slaughter likes pigs on a farm, and gnawed on the bones it called its forearms, i was distraught but you were alarmed, the night comes equipped and cannot be disarmed, unless all of the suns were unleashed at large, and given a fire of which to take charge, but they locked it up on a prison farm. Feeding it nothing and always on guard. Its anguished wails refused to cease. refused my heart, my cup of tea, now a damp and toxic nest of leaves, it will be of little help to thee, i'm a funeral home that's up for lease, a gunshot wound that doesn't bleed, in a ghost town that has ceased to breathe, save my gasping breath, and yours, ragged, on me

A stranger has a puppet army, their daggers graze my throat and their pink and perfect puppet hands are clawing at my door, ripping up the floor, and climbing underneath the boards, i know that they must multiply for each second brings a thousand more, tearing at the shirt i wore, i watched their molars as they tore, and almost with an audible roar, my muscles twitch and then grow sore, and can't defend what they adore, and can't defeat what they abhor, because even hand-crafted dolls know i can't compete with what's in store, that fueled the ashes of my horror, can't compete against the torrents when the torrents choose to poor, the torrents when they choose to poor, are demons waging open war, a demon siege on open doors, a mighty devil war uproar, accompanied by a tiny sore that's lost among a sea of gore, they've got me begging on all fours, begging them for life or death, clearly i could wait no more, i would have welcomed either or, for either i'd wield open doors, if only to be released from god's unholy pores, to escape the trembling of his lips and what his eyes would store, if only to recognize that i haven't been ignored, but my plight is revealing itself to be piteously poor, so i'll curl up on this cold, stone floor, and pray for armistice in war, and pray for love to be restored

They're churning up these weather-weary walls for something's got to lie beneath, for they're consumed with shallow greed, they lie like sharks just off the beach, waiting for a chance to sneak and keep the meal they'd like to eat, to rip out kidneys with your teeth, it seems too gruesome to be me. it doesn't help me to beseech for something lies just out of reach, and i must know of what they seek, they must suspect me of ill deeds, but truthfully all they'll ever reach are beating drums and running feet, running ceaselessly to a friend whose loving heart no longer beats, the endless searching patter of one thousand marionette feet, the snapping of one thousand strings that over time, are growing weak, that are released from wrinkled hands and fall down dead at withered feet, and it's rather bittersweet, that they spanned a thousand years, and walked a thousand miles of beach, and never laid eyes on what i saw them seek, but laid thousands on a sad retreat, something that stood just out of reach that triggered such immense defeat and nourished such a crippling grief, that rains from their eyes as their eyes, they weep, and grieve for the deceased under a canopy of trees, with never-ending seeds, to wipe the blood off of their feet, and take a final bow, and take a final seat

The floorboards crack and moan above the growth that is my head because if the roof is caving in, i swear, it's caving in through caves of red, soaking my body in my bed, i tried to gauge how much i bled, but was blinded by the sea of red, that swallows the living that swallows the dead, purging all the waste inside a giant, resting head, filled with years of knowledge, binging on the dead, sitting on the urge to sleep and sitting on the bed, it morphs into a never-ending song that plays in place of death. It racks against my heart like the racking i've known all along, but now the melody shifts winds and i see it growing strong, and the harmonies stretch long, humming in my ears with the same old, worn-down song, that made me witness footprints running off forever gone, but now i find that they are mine as they stand against my lawn, the one where you would sit and rejoice in simple things like fawns, how they came around and for miles they went walked along, now i look around and can't even see one fawn, my footprints reach across the dawn and appear to go forever on, away from somewhere i found fond, to somewhere vast and far beyond, somewhere you had never gone, it was i who left you all along, it is i who has been gone so long from the only place i did belong, who betrayed the swans who lost their songs, and tried to pull your soul along, and fled at the first sight of dawn, who laid so still for so very long, i've been wrong for so very long, it's a shame that you're now gone.