What not for my shot glass?

I shall call an avalanche clash

against words I’m so brash

but I give nothing that’ll last.

What will crumble to dust,

beauty and all that’s lush?

Shall an artist push a brush

while under earth be crushed?

For all the songs we do sing

what of all the truth it brings?

The heart it always suffering

when cold truth it does sting.

So do we silence or now hide,

in this universe we do collide,

where the vultures so snide

make lies and lust their bride?

I shall be now uneven and call

for the storm inside to now fall

against my inner being a wall

push me and see heartache thaw.