Brendan Burke

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I open up the skies, to prove that your alive,
And what beneath the surface, hides, denies, peace of mind,
The scum-bags lie and fry,
And i cry, i cry as to why this worlds gone awry,
I defy, i do not decry, this brass bound tie, you supply,
But this world it slips by,
And for this i still cry, cry till i die.


And through death i find strength, as you sit at arms length
And you erect this protection, from this fearful infection
I reject misdirection, from the master of deception
And in my recollection, i make the sad connection
Between the image of perfection, and the failure of inspection

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