The Iron Regiments of Human Fashion
I drag my anchor round a perfect sun
Though I'd dare not watch it set on scars,
On hope that's come undone
I shrug my shoulders and I load my gun
Just to scream and fire at the stars,
It's a holy war I've won
I'll nail my memory to a picture frame
For belief in silhouettes and studs,
A righteous golden age
I'll dredge the past, I'll erase your name
The coldest march on all that was
Set on the grandest stage
A history mired in the web I've spun
Oh in circles dance these loyal bards,
Round my anchor and fictitious sun
-Alex Lukin