Warlords

Your allusions to grandeur won't not go abused,
Confined to your arrogance with redemption the accused.
The light in the tunnel is patience you sorely crave.
No restless nails hammered in hands that go digging graves.

Tempted? Your honesty perplexes the mirrored saints.
Hard charcoaled images dance on lighted undrying paints.
With witchcraft before you in hidden cursed places
You butcher another innocent in a hand with no aces.

Blast furnace temperatures that you're barely feeling
Cut into our apathy as the hatred becomes so revealing.
Moisten your brow now as visions are blurred.
We'll squeeze the blood from it: just say the word.

You plead for reaction in every patient look.
Decadent symmetry crumbles, where is the hook?
The spinner is left reeling, no doctor in sight.
Fishing for the sharks that have all but lost their bite.

You are no madman. You are no slave.
You have a power the Devil wouldn’t crave.
You are a madman. You are a slave.
You hold the power that you know God gave.