Saturn Skins

The fabric of our voices

stretches deeper than the depths of any crypt

And our glory, stands taller than the pillars of ancient temples

We were forged in the fires of our father's war

Delivered from the god's salty palms

We strip those wicked lies

from fingertips of violet skies

Tongues and lips and voices

Coordinate in a strange unison

to birth an iron language,

a roaring bell to rattle frozen beasts

Our hands hang loosely at the end of the universe

A moment of suspension between

the crooked cracks of liquid silence 

A Saturn Skinned road, where our world begins