My Compass points South
My Compass points South,
To a war zone where the people get shot in the mouth,
Where hopeless children cry for their mother,
And no one is different from one-another,
Where everyone is on their own,
Re-defining the term alone,
The evil hunt and kill in packs,
And you must know how to counter-attack,
Where the sun sets to the chirping of guns,
All I can do is take my notebook and run.
Where the sky is always red,
And your friends are dead.
It’s a communism gone wrong,
Living for 15 years never felt so long,
A concrete jungle with no food or water,
The only way to survive is slaughter,
I’ve held my decapitated brother in my hands,
And buried him in this anguished land,
I hold this gun to my cold beating heart,
And you don’t dodge, you only dart,
You can’t sleep or turn your back,
Cause if you do, you’d be there snack,
Then be buried alive,
I tell you this tale it’s impossible to survive.
My Compass points South,
Where Anthrax is inhaled thru your mouth,
Where your precious sixth sense,
Is your only defense,
A place where Demons walk and chill,
And everyone lives to kill,
Where Raining Blood is more than a song,
And the wildfire screams along,
Shredded humans make the roads,
And our last words are in the blind man’s code,
We all wear masks, and rarely speak,
Where information can never leak,
A place where a shot in the arm is like a back massage,
And a true friend is the mirage,
I see Jason masks in the distance,
And I run where the red sky takes me,
Anywhere away from them.
I stop to fire,
Killed one,
But there are six left.
I drop my gun,
Then I hear loud gunshots,
Louder than usual.
I look down at the hole in my body,
Pushing my kidney back,
Drinking my blood, as the rain’s not enough.
I give up and go on my back,
And the citizens maliciously attack,
Shoving their teeth thru my liver,
As I feel a freezing shiver.
My Compass points South to the Future,
Where pillows are mad of suture,
Where this is no longer a duality,
It is a Reality.
To a war zone where the people get shot in the mouth,
Where hopeless children cry for their mother,
And no one is different from one-another,
Where everyone is on their own,
Re-defining the term alone,
The evil hunt and kill in packs,
And you must know how to counter-attack,
Where the sun sets to the chirping of guns,
All I can do is take my notebook and run.
Where the sky is always red,
And your friends are dead.
It’s a communism gone wrong,
Living for 15 years never felt so long,
A concrete jungle with no food or water,
The only way to survive is slaughter,
I’ve held my decapitated brother in my hands,
And buried him in this anguished land,
I hold this gun to my cold beating heart,
And you don’t dodge, you only dart,
You can’t sleep or turn your back,
Cause if you do, you’d be there snack,
Then be buried alive,
I tell you this tale it’s impossible to survive.
My Compass points South,
Where Anthrax is inhaled thru your mouth,
Where your precious sixth sense,
Is your only defense,
A place where Demons walk and chill,
And everyone lives to kill,
Where Raining Blood is more than a song,
And the wildfire screams along,
Shredded humans make the roads,
And our last words are in the blind man’s code,
We all wear masks, and rarely speak,
Where information can never leak,
A place where a shot in the arm is like a back massage,
And a true friend is the mirage,
I see Jason masks in the distance,
And I run where the red sky takes me,
Anywhere away from them.
I stop to fire,
Killed one,
But there are six left.
I drop my gun,
Then I hear loud gunshots,
Louder than usual.
I look down at the hole in my body,
Pushing my kidney back,
Drinking my blood, as the rain’s not enough.
I give up and go on my back,
And the citizens maliciously attack,
Shoving their teeth thru my liver,
As I feel a freezing shiver.
My Compass points South to the Future,
Where pillows are mad of suture,
Where this is no longer a duality,
It is a Reality.