Today was definitely a day for it.  Doubt, every move I can figure out is a trap, trust what is that, my soul has been scoured and there is only red meat and tendon showing.  Luckily the bone is steady.  Which way do I turn, who do I trust, how do I proceed?  All fall down there is really no way to figure what the knights move will be, shout it our, because if it is known in private, make it public, there is no reason to harbor a secret, let it out, dance away, the devil takes my hand and I burn, every turn is fire, singed, back to his embrace, scalded and writhing.  The honey melts searing as it travels.  The cart it rocks on my journey through Hell, Every turn is a pitfall, the depths of despair, that was love, this is trust.  John Wayne is dead and a handshake is nothing anymore.  There is no reality except in old black and white movies, and the ferrel grin of the walking dude, he smiles and he surfs the wind, he comes on high, the trupet call to arm call to arm, the angel writhes in his armour and the demon tongue he lashes for death is their industry.  The living God walks on Earth, for Satan raised his arms, the angel he sees, me I saw one, and Lucifer when he sees the angel it is time for ------- war on Earth, and all fall down, to the accord there is no escape the fire of Hell reins on this land, and my son, oh my son, I can see.  Why does a woman ever need sight?  She sees through her lids to the man within, the man inside and it calms her to know the beast that resides.

There is no solace in the sweet song.  When does the price of a lay'eth a thine head upon thy pillow and rest easy.  The hearth the home, how far have I gone, the grime cakes upon my soul and Lucifer calls the troops, for there is no other to lead the dogs of war and in the belt fierce will be the battle of Evermore.  Thine wing it doth preceed'eth thee in scope and thy whip it do'eth lash at my soul, for the flame doth runn'eth upon thy blade, ringing true Excalibur Forever the battle cry from ages gone, whence did'st thou matron a hitherto?  There be'eth no secure my lord, the demons crested the mount and upon my heart do'est the devil dance the song of ages past to a tune, the horse meant?  He ask'eth.  Thine my lord only the Kings riders upon the road on a this dying day and night no more, for thy torch to lead me out of this cave for it harbor'eth my heart within the confines of thine dearest long past and rested ago, for time of eternity will'eth thou lend'eth thy shield.  No, say'eth he, on bended knee he doth tak'eth her hand.  The maid spry of ages ago, the temple of grey do'est your hair shine of honey in the fire light, and the faye'eth upon thy breath for doth I smell of fresh baked bread , mead and the hound to the bone.  Forsake'eth me not.  No tear does she shed, no lie to me my lord for there is no fury left within me, I shall draw the water and pour'eth the wine.