Self Loathing

There are singers who hate their very own songs and

There are mothers that hate their daughters and sons

There are gods of spite and wrongs and rights

And some of the days are darker than night

There are teachers who teach mistaken beliefs

There are people next door you may never see

There are surgeons that yield the bluntest of knives

And circles that seem like infinite lines

There are lovers you've won and lovers you lost

There are vague memories we used to eat cod

There are unknown soldiers that we just all forgot

And a considerable speck is still just a dot

There are cadavers and carcasses and fossils and such

There are resting places that have all been booked up

There are lives that were lived without too much fuss

And an unbroken skin makes a beautiful husk

So rage for me

Rage for me

Rage for me

Rage

Do not go quiet into your graves

There are victims of lies and hypocrisy

"What you gonna do if the queen comes for tea?"