Storm Of Bass

Take this cup

fear is enough

to slip beneath

lips give us up.

We those of a

place together

face into places

alert of weather.

Wreckage worn

of that of storm

are from us born

into flame form.

From me to you

for what I mean

when the sky up

into face screams.

Can it not be thee

thou who has art

for one of me is it

one with no part.

There is a glib lit

thunder supply I

shift rift disguise

now compromise.

Let together we

must in so loud

lay waste to trebel

let bass us allow.


“Forty Six & 2” – Tool

3 Comments Add yours

  1. Powerfully said! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you very much. ✌

      Like

  2. Love all of this, music included

    Like

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