All of my twenty one grams guide these weary, blackened hands
And salvation's corpse these hands will exhume
Alas, homo sum
Unbound, of meaning absent
As mere son of Atlas 'midst endless galaxies
With chaos and fury sweetening the absinth
Of logos, baptized in seas of deceased deities
I laid to rest all facades
Sung a requiem for the gods
Cut adrift from old moorings
Crowning kinsmen over kings
Each stroke of this pen aspires
To cypher the fall of crumbling empires
Of credence and creeds as a mire
Of choirs of naïves hailing reason's pyre
Behold this testament
This contemptuous lament of moral attrition
The moment one screams to the deaf
Who, in fear of death
Devoted their lives to contradiction
All of my twenty one grams guide these weary, blackened hands
And salvation's corpse these hands will exhume
Alas, homo sum
Rise above the smoke and mirrors
Of nooses woven with feudalist strings
Only wisdom, benevolence and valor
Are worthy of worshipping
Rise above
Beyond the Sun
All of my twenty one grams, as Tantalus, ever damned
To wade in aphorisms
Or drown in nihilism
