Sunday, October 31, 2021

Between The Static by Murders Row




Is a paradise within hell.
For the rings are just as much delusion, as your sacred truth.

On wings and nightmares, upon a plain you cannot fathom.
The eye can view what the blind in vain seek.

No buried treasure, but plenty of skeletons in the proverbial closet.

Tigers wait until that moment.
You never know it's close until you sense its fangs.

Dismember the evidence and leave the file.

An artist always leaves a signature behind.

Stained in your essence, what a splendid canvas you did create.





Murders Row are a group of artists who choose to remain anonymous. 
Their art is dark as so often is life.
 That is all that needs to be said.







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