False people

What the jury thought is all that matters. The rest of us can be absolved from concern if the process is followed exactly. Justice seems to lie between the two sides of every story.

the room is dark and lonesome
there are thieves out for hearts tonight
they walk the streets and speak
with fake voices
hiding their selves in-case the ancestors
get in on the act and spoil everything

dark roses beckon you to the very place your soul was found hanging
its threads sagging down like a drowning spade
shake the spindle and let it twist like a demon
learn its memory before time held your stop listening to itself
heard the sea inside of its shell
brought up horse and kept in the dark
by strangers who forgot their tails

the room is cold and black
there is a tailor with a heavy
steel pair of sheers ready to cut off
your loose ends if you stray over the bends
in the road the defined path through things
you have to go or nobody is going to care what you think
its the end of blunt air
its the time for broken threat
to fall over wills that beget
infamy famine and death
to ones cat or another type of pet
don't mind we still find it beyond our kind
they ran dry of ways to sell soap
as things filled all the gaps in the mind
they cry when they see their money die

with a sigh she says its time to learn
how the signs come at you one time and all
how the strange lines evolve into
silence as death overcomes vanity
all the things you put off until you had time to sort them

fake heart stops and now you know its too late to do much
the phone rings and there is a knock at the door
the water boils on the stove and your baby is crying
but the red light means only seconds are left
to tidy up a lifetime of making a fine mess