Midnight heat broiling
My mighty metropolis.
Obsidian silhouette etched
into the glittering skyline.
Little beings hustle and bustle
through mundane, trivial lives.
Insignificant insects marching
along in the confines of their hive.
Every soul severely stressed
stretched so thin, invisible.
Disharmony, they sing out of tune
my ears in pain when they praise my name
knowing I'd rather them just croon.
But what they do, they know not.
Confused little bastards, suffering.
Pray, sin, pray again. Its all they've got.
If I were to be true to every word,
to listen to every whisper I've heard
They'd all be better off
if I just let them burn.
