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A Great Cavity
That old capital city,
Moscow. Soothing purgatory;
Vents of wise steam, with too little
To be mad about.
The rise and fall of nationalism's empire,
And the sore and drowning need of tribe.
A wounded mind becoming its own tribe
Because it is too fearful of the dirty gutters in this rich city.
The Emperor questioned some reports of lords usurping his empire,
While he had to take credit for the chains, hopeful souls forced to pray for purgatory.
The chains would be animated, if only they knew what it was their prisoners cared so much about.
These great hearts of silence, but they were too little
To matter. The right to smear some tribe
In an attempt to show what humanity is about.
Yes, country life is unknown, but city-
Life promises heaven with third worlds, the mixture is less than purgatory.
The king's dreams are flawed; small towns are above
The swollen nothing of empire.
And the Empire-
State building wonders about its regained supremacy and little
Found glory. They would move to purgatory,
For its mansions. Casts of scripts forming tribes.
Shows from New York City
Wonder what the Hollywood fuss is all about.
Streams about
To be rivers, becoming bigger but still quite too small to be called an empire.
We plead for redundancy. The mayor asks for something more than a city.
Nobility matters little
To the inherited president quite loyal to his tribe.
And all is well, except for the people who call their drowsy blankets something more than purgatory.
People don't cry in the lord's world, purgatories
Pain is sealed like the lie which provided convenient truth. A little
Evil act corrected by a little tribal
Lie, it stays orderly this way. Little
Goals, big ads, our streets are muddy and for all the wrongs this is a devoid city.
Cooling lava, the concrete of some city, hell with the promise of heaven, this is purgatory.
Little engineered hip-hop beats rapping about
Coastal empires, the gang's colors, and our lost tribe.
You commented a couple weeks ago that music lyrics should not be cryptic for the sake of being cryptic; which I can empathize with, but I considered lyrics to be poetry put to music. This poem reminds me a lot of "Carry My Urn to Ukraine", Army of Lovers.