Words of clay

The dogs are dead

In living rooms across the globe

Whose owners helped us pay for lunch

And travels in Japan

The mountain range I often blame

For granting me this life I live

Is melting in these years to come

Whose tears I try to understand

The tourist traps I can‘t escape

For better or for worse

Keep me up at night, at times like these

I struggle with these words of clay

The lords of steel I can‘t control

I kill them in my fantasies

And when they read my thoughts of blood

They‘ll make me give them back for coins