Judgment

There are so many ways a person can be beaten.

There are so many times a person’s heart can be smashed,

Smashed into pieces

Of shard shaped shatters

For making her merely a part of the woodwork.

Denial, denial,

Truth or lies?

A one-man army, outnumbered,

Outnumbered, hostage, in the dark.

The full harvest moon rests orange on the breath of the night,

A clear night sky so sure to be dry,

As dry as his nervous mouth should be.

The magic runs deep in this forest of pines

With deciduous spread in between.

On the third hour of the morning,

Before the sun burns the eyes of the June bug,

The mist will bead on the blades of the grass.

So prematurely,

It beads.

He cannot escape his fate,

Whatever it may result in.

The old magic, these friendships,

They won’t let that happen lest he wishes to die.

Expected to appear before a council of animals

Who will rip his case and conscience apart

In hopes to reveal true intensions,

He will not escape his fate.

And so the fire

Begins to roar

So tall and bright

As the animals dance

To the beat of the drum

To the beat of the drum

To the beat of the deerskin drum.

And so the fire

Begins to roar

As the animals dance

Beneath the moon

To the beat of the deerskin drum.

The old magic runs deep tonight,

Let the judgment begin.