that the master's tools will never
dismantle the master's house
but this house is already burning.
A tornado spinning in the living room,
lightning striking in the attic.
The kitchen cluttered with rotting fruit,
poisonous water sputtering out of the sink.
In the basement there is but one light
and all the people who still recognize it’s there
A tornado spinning in the living room,
lightning striking in the attic.
The kitchen cluttered with rotting fruit,
poisonous water sputtering out of the sink.
In the basement there is but one light
and all the people who still recognize it’s there
fight over the warmth.
The backyard is littered with shrapnel
and corpses. We have to be
very careful where we step.
Death is no stranger here,
and certainly no one's friend.
This house is crumbling
under the weight of the contradictions
built into its framework.
This blueprint was never meant to last.
And we must work to build anew.
To be the architects of our future
we have to learn how to reject
The backyard is littered with shrapnel
and corpses. We have to be
very careful where we step.
Death is no stranger here,
and certainly no one's friend.
This house is crumbling
under the weight of the contradictions
built into its framework.
This blueprint was never meant to last.
And we must work to build anew.
To be the architects of our future
we have to learn how to reject
the static definitions of our past.
-Liz
-Liz
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