The Banger

Redesign our selfish kind
Sweep it off it's feet into the eye
Of every wound it hides
Show it all its wrongs, reveal the rights
Of where we should have been
But where we're not
Seduced by all our sins is why we cease to be dissuaded memories

Build a church from the ashes of our memories
The bones that made the outlines of the prophecies
Those of us who lived among the sacred beach
Pierce all the eyes with the visions of a fantasy