Search in what is not meant to be

Open You will find nothing you 

can take Until your vision peels 

away and your Caught up behind 

everything you can See 

We will hide behind black lines 

With Purple shading, and a dash 

of what Ever you thought made 

your  face Look Better 

To the skeleton I see through you, 

Swaying, moving, the death behind 

Your skin is beautiful isn’t it? 

The grave markers tell of where 

Your lies have been, God has come

Back from the dead, but everyone 

Is long gone, my friend where do 

The shallow lines end? 

Deep mustard powder that makes

Me gag went the dust of it flies

Up in my face in that yellow haze

And I choke because I know it 

Keeps me from seeing anything

In front of me 

Defeated in a new sense of the 

Word, a righteous slaying of 

My moral being and everything

That was meant to be honest 

Is just a tally on the 

Disappointment your bride

Has fed me 

So back to the field where death

Is planted, in hopes of a crop

Where the bodies will rise and 

The rot will be peeled away, 

Where the graveyards will be 

Filled with your sin and the 

Sinners will be free of the six

Feet of mud filled comfort