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 Traitors of the DreamWorld

by Patrick O'Leary

 

Climb the scattered mountains
Pick them out of a portrait
Like some sort of a fountain rain
Let the hate, take all that you ate
Serve this on a golden field
Come on, it's time to wield
Don't stop this fight
It's not out of sight
So sorry no one could hear me
So sorry, no one could heed me
The utter blue morning awaits
Calls onto the beckoning shorelines
Listlessly I fall
Unknowingly I call
You're nowhere to be found
Oh my plastic friend
Could you sing me a beautiful sound
Weary of feeling this dark ground..

My eyes are bound

Just make your beautiful sound...

Why can't I hear you?

I felt you shoot

It wasn't a beautiful sound

I can no longer pound this ground

My hands are now bound

My friend I'm bleeding

And you're fleeting

Among your own

I wish I would've known...

These mere photographs of crime scenes

All created by your schemes

Murder befalls the traitor among these hills

The blue morning calls

I am no longer

I have become a goner

I have you to thank

I thought you had sank

I never knew you had a blood bank

I thought you had sank

You were there when I last drank

I remember the hissing of "I'll be there"

But where have you gone?

It's such a bleak gray tone

The hills call for you once more

They yearn for the shoreline

To be cleaned of treason

Seasons don't have to change by your reasons

They are set

You are a lost bet

Hear my whisper

Oh Lester

Et tu amicus?