a fitting end, sliding, slipping, simple inches that separate us from the angel who mourns...
if not for a brief second, mothers and sisters and others flooded with visions of firstborns...
these children that saw the shadows of shadows go up in flames after a day of pouring rain...
were the same that saw their fate slip into broken wheels, death the protectors did restrain...
shaken up but not broken down, resilient as ever to not end up so near deep down underground...
six feet of dirt is six lifetimes of hurt, the sixth sense sees satan coming to steal my crown...
so it floods on our coffin, a cage that seals our lives, the tears of god lead me his throne...
the untamed road before us, death she beckons, time is gone, short, alive, awakened at home...

-flood on me-