They’ve turned their eyes Up
Again in wanting vast improvements
Of their daily rituals and rations
Clearing there bronze plates of ashes
Overburdened with ungodly quantities
Of soon to be ornaments of wealth
ornaments of wealth
Their gaze was met from those hooded gilded eyes on high
With loathing and reflection
Bound through lunate
Wrath incarnate
Pain unending
Abstained from mending
Spirits no longer linger here
Their time is best served with those
Whose gaze
Dictates
Orders in unspoken gestures
Their gaze
Dictates
Orders in unspoken gestures
Vauge but undeniable
Under punishment of further