An Ill-Sworn Power

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Za's Stair

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There is death inside the bottle
But you drink 'cuz there's death without
And nothing feels so tragic
As when you have to shut your mouth

They've ruined another coven
With pretense far too thin
To obscure such well-known secrets
As good men turn to sin

Now laughing at the gateway
As idle thoughts go sour
An unobstructed runway
Berths an ill-sworn power

Applaud me, it galls me
It wrongs me, applaud me

And every, every tickling thought
Approaches roads that end
As heavy, burly, heaving clods
Heckle another friend
Heckle another friend

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