Button-holed, stitched up with society's threads
As wolves are left the rancid meat of singular bread.
There is no need of consequence.
The foul bell chimes, and the sinners jump the cliffs.
The saints are shot like renegades, rebels left adrift
In the space between innocence and evanescence.
The Indians work the kitty litter mines.
The billionaire walks past panhandlers with the same education, depth and drive.
There is no need of consequence.
After many a moonrise, the spectators see
It doesn't inflict for their glittering applause and merciless charity
In the space between innocence and evanescence.
While we pile all our efforts on time bombs ticking,
Others back off and retract all they've been given.
There is no need of consequence.
We rise to angers that die out as failures of will.
We move quickly past victories and linger too long in losses distilled
In the space between innocence and evanescence
There is no need of consequence.
