Tridents

You’ve got a lot to say and sleeves to sew
We don’t see eye to eye don’t you know
It’s not a coin but two lone planets circling our own suns

Where is the salve to soothe our aching hearts
Suffice to say we’re better apart
The tattered flag of a long lost empire, afraid of the future

Panic is coming, crossing enemy lines
Anger is summing, down the molatov mile
Ignorant fortunes, all their thinking retired
Sharpening tridents, and the torches on fire

You’ve got a reckoning coming
I hope the money was worth it all
You’ve got a reckoning coming
The long knives coming down