Mutilated World
Thomas Giles Rogers
The glare seems to know our names
A flame that lifts our days away
Stuck to the edge of our dreams
Sifting down, amongst the ground, we once embraced
I cannot feel the night
I cannot sense the day
Praise the mutilated world
Enriched with the taste of red
The dripping from those who fade away
Gripped by the dye of our dreams
Creeping down amongst the ground, we once disgraced
This won't dry
A simple smile that glazed our eyes, a simple task
This won't speak
They know our names, and drag them deep
I cannot feel the night
I cannot sense the day
Praise the mutilated world
