08 – Camp David

Years spent
At the monster’s ball
Where angels go
After their fall
To try and con their way
In to their kind of heaven

I for one was born there
Without a hope, without a care
Just, a will
To survive
And a mind
To keep deals even

Deep within
This masquerade
Where devils train
Their demon maids
The outside only sees
What is projected

The polished smile
The structured pose
Hiding dark souls
That decompose
Everything they touch
Becomes infected

Yet through the cracks
That eye perceives
The nature
Of their damning pleas
For in it
Is the fire of redemption

Undo the ties
The masks will drop
Chaos
Will be held aloft
And all their hearts will bleed
Without exception