all creativity and beauty is in utter jeopardy

the hum of the air raid sirens fills the calm sky. pleasant white noise. prestige burried under rubble. we live between fear and paranoia. the sun steals our prays. the night restores panic. fortune smiles down on the sleepers that line our streets, and she blesses them with undisturbed dreams. nashville was nothing but a name. put your faith in the blood soaked homes. if destiny drips, so do we. underneath the remains that our ancestors dedicated their souls to, a new discovery. cross paths with uniquely meshed wood and string. another artifact to add to our collection. how strange their obsessions. no use to bury the dead, it's not a dagger. burn the wood, string the bows. who would have guessed, at the end of it all we would find ourselves back at the beginning.