Worst is when the silence comes (and) silence holds it's breath licensed always scandalously (to) choke and blunt to death broken promise given to (the) likely dreams we hold burnt and scarred it skitters o-(ver) thresholds charred and sold that dead still won't let go these déjà luddites cut cold peeled out from mould that dead still gleams all silver that dead still seems a thriller that dead still shines so nicely that dead still blinds enticing dead still best is when the curtain falls (and) music comes to pause clayfoot heroes say their prayers (and) everyone applauds once the bullshit fills the air (a)-ssassins search their prey scorn is primed and swords are drawn (to) slice, annihilate shame and flame explode into thousands of gleaming shards blame the game for morphing the assholes all into stars and far, so far, so very far away from this world taste on my breath is the waste of regret in the haste to the end cry it foul till it bends