We cast no shadow
The stars do not shine here
Be content to light your own path
And burn what you have crossed
The bridges were frail
The people, pretended
Storm forth with the light of the inflamed
Reclaim and ignite the sky
Brightly to blind
Rip off the veneers enabling opportunists to thrive
Dam the rise of grime and rats
More sickening than a social circle that believes itself charmed
Are the writhing droves of blowhards and yes men
Clamoring to slither in
Stay sovereign on the outside
We are who finished last
The unaffected
Contrasting the wide and white
We are who finish last
Sound
Indignant
The iron to gleaming teeth
The salt on saccharin
We who finish last
Proudly in their darkness
Lit from within
Glad hands grabbing for bra** rings
Painting their bricks gold
Keen sycophants filthy scheming
Furthering the feuds of their adored
They have picked their enemies impeccably
Very keen indeed
And so siege the scorned
We are naught but beds of thorns and dark horses
Unwelcome guests who will just not mind their place
A single musket ball to pierce and lodge inside
And lead the circle to crack
We cast no shadow
The stars do not shine here
No genuine light to be found
Only rays of cold, synthetic beams on a mock aristocracy
so the vain and insecure can feel revered and cared for
For a cheap, fleeting moment
Truly noble
Storm forth with the light
We who finish last
Proudly in our darkness
Lit from within
Conflict in the chest
To be concerned for the needs of such heartless men