Joy at the Man

The Man lifts its arms Outlined in a victorial verdant A celebration of life An effigy of triumph Look upon my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! For but a moment Ozymandias stands tall and proud The lone and level sands obscured by hallways in the round Where once there was nothing Where soon there will be nothing A clock city now bustles, timeless, yet ephemeral Filled with Waking Dreams Aesthetically adorned by audacious artwork Permeated by melodies demanding mortal flesh to dance Creating connections through collisions of circumstance and chance Fireworks light up the sky The Man erupts in flames, arms raised in fiery defiance As if to say, "Fuck your Burn." "I was here. I am here. I will return." Denying the hold of the abyss Life is but a flicker So we dance and sing and make art while it lasts Cry tears of overwhelming joy at how beautiful it is Laugh in the face of sorrow, at the absurdity of it all We love, we fall, we try again And we remember who we are As The Man becomes coal and ashes and smoke