Gone are the casual cries, the bitter solitude.
Gone are the rainbows, smeared are the hues.
Vanished are the lowly tours, the lavish festivals,
Disappeared are the rampant glows, and scorched is the amiable.
Faded are the neon signs, the motley stagnant crowds,
Offended are the spirited hearts, the bashful and minded brows.
Condescended are the victims, the hectic intricacies,
Lying are the gorging fiends, the interloping catastrophes.
Gilded wine burns less sweet and coasts through the filthy gutter,
Washing away long hard sweat, and replacing work with suffer,
Static lamentation remains but our sole pride,
Cavalry are chaste, but weaponless are our sides.
Discreet and solemn pity and self-misery guide our way,
But ne’er shall paths be truly gone, even if in disarray.
Gone are the contesting bouts, the grim fanatic trees,
Gone are the blissful chords, the butterfly in the breeze.
Vanished are the tactful visionaries, the relentless feudal lords
Gone is the blasphemy, and with it, gone is the world.