What’s left — a soul exploded on stage hoping to save the sun
For shit days, getting old in the face of lies, greed, war
As love, a need to give, lift us up, deepens the sore
The ulcer of the heart—
(Get out before you’re used up, get out before you plan
Or perhaps before they plan
Be done shaking the hand that eats you.)
What’s left – the contract, tied wrists, the prison of the mind
A buzz saw black hole hurricane of nails over the caged
“The wreck of you and the rest”, so many forsaken…
The death of a friend—
Stars bleed invisibly into the earth each day
But the world is not redeemed by the blood of art alone.
Drugs to ease our pain cannot cure the madness that we’ve made.
RIP Chris Cornell & Chester Bennington