Frayed threads beguiled by a siren’s song ignite a crackling flame

I think she wants me dead

I can see the lights coming

I can feel the heat

The Embers of Industry

I wanted to leave it be,

but the songs around me just wouldn’t end

Seraphic sirens stargazing into my mind

They sing haunted hymns that lure me to utter madness

When the dust clears,

everyone will be gone

A final stop at Badland before the Great Serenity

And as the exploding galaxies say:

On the way down, you’ll hear the gears twist and crank

At the bottom, there is no one else to thank

If the boot fits, walk the plank

Nothing but a sunken, gullible point of a shadow will remain

It demands recognition

and an answer to guilt

Temptation and perseverance do the waltz across the starry sky

The boot fit