All hail the King who gives thee numbers. Those who fear him shall stand beside him, And laugh with him, Only to be crushed by him like all other unsatisfactory numbers. Faces upon faces upon names upon names, Thrown into his royal strainer, Some falling through to the bottom, Disregarded into the King’s pot. Others stay behind, Fool’s gold twinkling in the King’s eyes. Beautiful numbers.
Numbers have the power to wage war. Score marks are scars of battle. The number of bodies piles up, While the bodies of numbers who stand by the king Dwindles. Friends become enemies while Enemies remain foes. People begin to go through dozens of faces And dozens of names To become a number worthy of the King. They are numbered, as they wish, Like cattle branded in a field.
They fight tooth and nail, Face and name, So busy trying to be a number They are not being men. As if the shape of a number describes them. As if a number’s curve, angle, or figure Truly encompassed their passions. As if quantity truly overcomes quality.
But no score marks me. No King stands over me. For I am not a number
Worship and glorify Jesus With Praises and songs Praises to raise our voices To worship and sing songs To honor the Lord Awesome and glorious Beautiful and always the King Of our Salvation who watches Protecting the ones who look
The shrine of Madonna stood tall, The high king’s rapier fell down, not anymore was he the young prince, for he was devoid of all feelings. The shrine of Madonna stood strong, The high king’s blood washed the ivory pedestal,
I am Lucifer the Prince of daemons which I command like a bunch of minions, for with them I annex realms and subjects who are no more than heavenly rejects, distinct from Saints; the apples of God’s eye. In Eden’s
I heard sweet voices sing Fragrance of wild flowers in spring A thrown of gold for a King To watch His courtier dance and sing The Queen sits by His side Watching the fair maidens Trying to steal Her pride
There once was a King, who lived in a castle, in a Kingdom of his own. He had everything, royalty could bring, except; he was alone. Since love wasn’t there, his castle was bare, just a building made out of