on the path to loneliness

the Giant with five eyes

keeps claiming to have seen the living dead rise

across the open prairies 

underneath crimson skies

where factual truth is ridiculed and compromised,

twisted into pieces and distorted by his lies.

but i'm sipping Kentucky bourbon 

while reading the international news:

it doesn't comfort me but it's simply what i choose

to keep on open mind

on what he plots and what he eats and brews.

his friends are hiding inside a box!

they talk about fake gold inside Fort Knox

and never dare 

to complain of lack of air!

no! he'll rip away their faces and tear away their hair.

they're waiting for the end days,

humming Bible stories and singing Christian praise,

filled with the weight of fear and sunk by a deep despair,

they won't save themselves but only sit and stare,

even when the sign posts proclaim everyone should beware!

the workers in a field who never read a book,

never stood a chance against a machine that only ever took,

when the highest goal was owning all the land, 

the oceans, and all the oil-rich sand.

the giant with five eyes,

much to my surprise,

dressed in a complicated disguise

to which there were never any independent replies,

and all around were murders and mysterious spies

smiling as they pledged their word and said their sly goodbyes.

it was all good until it wasn't fun anymore,

when the counting man couldn't tally the final score,

but on the path to loneliness there are greater mountains to explore.