Sitting at the shore, on a sojourning ship
A very heavy machinery
Forged from the sweat of men of wit
An evil and benign contraption
Pieces of metal wound together to rule the masses
To give power of death to its bearer
A memento mori
With the emptying of each shell lies another at the end who bears a burden
To live or die
A decision better made in frames of moments
Which could be the last
With each pull of the trigger, the world is changed
A soul is closer to meeting its maker
But who is really evil?
The inventor or the invention?
The metal or the blacksmith?
The sword or the warlord?
Surely this contraption only takes when it is led to
For it is only metal wound together without its master
Stare into the barrel of the gun
And stare into the eyes of the power hungry
You will find looking back at you, eyes full of darkness