A-God

June
A spectre approaches, carrying gifts and the opportunity to be a flightless bird
Sin and a heretic promise, prayer from the infidel, another unanswered phone call
For that one moment under fluorescent and masks, he could see forever
Within a week, his prophecies forgotten and his legacy fated to be stained

July
Summon the words in permanent ink, only to be altered a million more times
Wide awake are the nights, the tired roam around their homes, searching
They continue their schedule and daily routine with precise repetition
The statue is being built in town square; they're not listening to the protesters

August
Return to the place we've lived before, like a bear to a cave, like a bird to a nest
"There's gonna be something good on the other side of this, I know," spoken in hollowspeak
Collided with the sudden violent approach of the undead and reborn, another chance
Stationed against and with, the downfall of the people's angels had begun

September
Enter the sheep in wolf's clothing, offering sheep's lifeblood from his snarl
The sacrifice of the lamb from his teeth is delicious, dripping with a numbing relief
She will never see him, midnight, on the couch, passed out from too much excess
Their eyes will not meet, another conversation for another day

October
The brisk autumn gale and dying leaves scattershot across the campus lawn
Another conversation, another day has arrived and they don't think they couldn't think of a place they'd rather be
Appropriate measures are told to have been taken but another lie is simply sugar on the tongues of the liars
He can feel the promises splintering, he knows the day is coming but the sheep's blood is too good to deny

November
A last shot long shot attempt to bring the dead to life but a likely miss occurred
They sat alongside the intimate deaths of others, two raptors, innocent disguise
Flew alongside their train, hand's held, hoping for the best, we could see who we wanted to be
The last station approach, one last kiss goodbye and the train arrived

December
Since parted they have become, proof wishful thinking and hoping for the best never pays off
In his hands scripture, mostly finished and waiting to be fed, a book is all he has left
Mostly praise from close friends, drugged down and dragged along, the cage opened
Some birds are too big, some wings too long, some must fly, so the flightless ones can die