Only dead fish go with the flow
A river of life thick and vast, a likeness of sea, where time slowly passed. Inside all a rhythm beats, with each bonded thread, to a end we all re-meet to mend.
Only dead fish go with the flow to ascend.
Where a king and his court a jest of reproach, a tale of the relentless the admonished & encroached. Shining their scale’s on sin and grow scar’s by wars, a broach encroached symbolic to implore.
Only dead fish go with the flow to know the abhorred.
To where the enthralled and enslaved lay slain, where hope, will, and science, animate a gain. To a means of cultures passing, lost in dance and song; amassing forgotten dreams & hollow rotting throngs.
Only dead fish go with the flow to eternally belong.
Where many vanquish the elect thrice, held down and ill, to respect or be drowned, a headless take upon wrath and rakes instilled. Stripping the scales of super-nature by ire, reborn from the actions of their will and fire, advising surrender a unwanted make.
Only dead fish go with the flow shedding husk’s they can take.
A river red strong & deep like a well, escaping no binds of smoke and hell; by tying chains to find the fallen angel’s as they sing, the fish tearing off all but their horns and wings.
Only dead fish go with the flow to become the accursed thing’s
To shed broken forms to mend back their own broken wing’s. No halos live inside this negative sea of sadness darkness and depravity. The King’s as Devil’s and Pope’s as propagation.
Only the dead fish go with the flow to revelation
As the foreseen dawn, no halo nor wings or head. the slain lay with no masquerade, no scales of darkness no god betrayed. to forgo how they were to follow as positive made. Only dead fish go with the flow by the ace and spade.
In will and choice, a beautiful voice; exposed upon twisted broken pair of scale’s and stone’s. Building golden stairs from the peoples wails, screaming like common nails, bending into the demons back in moans. Standing upon a mirror looking back at a tail of the past that cant be trim; with a broken halo cracked inverted in, upon their marked head like horns, the positive fellowship sworn to reborn, as healing martyrs to be tried of the spirit; broken & forlorn.
Only dead fish go with the flow by scorn.