2. The Beginning

The future is an abyss

Every pure inch moulded by one sculpture

Into another sculpture,
Identical in every sense, your identity stolen,
Manufactured, mundane, hollow, useless,

Discarded, for he is just another mould under the sky,

Rain, hail, sleet, snow, the burning sun.
Rain, hail, sleet, snow, the vicious tornado.
The cycle doesn't stop.
The stress, the strain, the fatigue, the fracture.
In the world of royalties, we are but petty platitudes
So utterly ordinary, so menacingly boring
A versine curve upside down, is still just that
Twice as fast as what was supposed to be, and twice as tall,
But at what price?
Here I tell you the story of my archaic adventures,
Quite run-of-the-mill, I hear you say.
Bear with me, dear friends, the story is just beginning.

1. The Confesssion

Tonight my friends as we take a sip from the goblets
I have an urge to reveal one of my deepest secrets, my story
The story might be one with no value as one might view
But if one took a closer look few of them would understand
This buffoonery of mine in the story is rather wise in a dishonest way
So heed my words my dearest friends
As when the story ends I'd want you to be judgmental but in a sympathetic way
I'd want you to be cruel in a forgiving way
And indifferent in a concerning way
Tonight marks the beginning of a saga
For how long this will continue I cannot tell
For as long as this thirst of mine does not quell
So let us raise our goblets
To mighty old me, with my true face hidden in a mask of flesh
Tonight I show you my true visage, I bare my soul
Tonight I confess
And tonight you listen.