Piano Sonata #2 in B-flat Minor

Sound laws
Sound waves
Theories and parab-le-tic facts
Our evolutions are endless
And our struggles are mighty
We have come to kill Grendel
We have come to cradle the child
Born from pillaged treasure,
Pillaged wombs
And raised on Ancestor’s tales.

weird night, long nights, hot and strange nights

Slinking past a broken light
Where images dance
And lives stand stagnant

Moments are lost forever
And ages cross our faces
While laughter forces itself out
We feign limitless in our depths
Refusing to acknowledge our triviality

And once we have nothing left
No more passing thoughts that compel us to speak
We try to find a way back
To how something, somewhere where
There was no one to hear
No one to care
Judge and jury, executioner gone by the way
Buried with a name
And the crassest of ceremony

With what cynicism we find our way back home
And crawl beneath our cold sheets
To rest our head on limp pillows
And find our way to sleep
Between exposed springs and broken bottles