Pretty Lies

Pretty Lies

If it happens to be
The initial sunrise for you
Don’t blame the light
In the brilliant orange sky

I’m just a slave
To the lion of that fiery kingdom
Blowing in gusts of the brilliant lamb;
Of the brilliant lamb of GOD

I run the transistor mines
Down at the station
Keeping all them pinball wizards
Spot on dime

I once was a train
Afire with a new locomotion
A hot combustion
An interior locution
Through this wild morning
Orchid clustered skies

But now just a slave
Envisioning a land of freedom
Just another hungry heart
Struggling to discern between
All those painful truths
And all them pretty lies

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