Sunday morning breaks, like the waves crashing on the sands of Normandy. Judgement day, the weekly lashing. Hurry, hurry, this is no place for laughter. The heat, his anger, always at the point, an atom right before. Simmer, tipping quickly. A pinch of salt, in the wounds, and he shoots to boil. Faster, faster, get yourself buttoned-up, tied down. The Lord is forgiving, it’s true, but only of the perfect, and you are all severely lacking.
Another day, take your pick. Summer, winter, fall, spring, doesn’t matter which. There’s been another incident. Claims it’s just an accident, but he won’t have a word of it. Actions speak louder than words, and intentions yet louder still. I know your inner evil, no matter what you do, or what lies pour from your filthy mouth. Your heart must be dark like mine, so dark like mine. For we are born from sin, tainted to the core. So take your punishment, compound your shame, you know that you deserve every drop of it, and maybe more.
Now he’s got nowhere to go. No one to turn to. A white lab coat, he never trusted them. A woman’s voice telling him to breathe, but he never trusted women either, not a single one.
Luke is an RVA songwriter working hard to hone my lyric writing skills any way possible (including free writing like you see here)! Music released thus far can be heard at: