Michael T. Johnson

Last Days Of An Empire

I've dreamed of a golden prophet
Who's words fell upon def ears like fire from gods bitter heart
Parting the clouds that rest in the minds of the unfaithful
Casting a monolith of prismatic light in the blind eyes of the nonbelievers
Searing the bones that line the road to our glory

And as the sins of our benefactors grip our darkened souls
We look to vacant heavens and yell 'Freedom'

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