Overman

Tears of a fool worth as much as the wise

towards the tomb we trek a single road

tatters we are with nobody to goad

traverses on the path fate cold as ice

teeth on the pie dare we wait for a slice?

temper the magic born out of the root

tales from downtown where salvation is moot

cluttered screams shatter ears before sunrise

clovers on your feet dancing against luck

clean well-lit places with forget-me-nots

clad in hues that make him the biggest toast

cloying sentiments all over the coast

filthy are hands that know no blood nor muck

for no one escapes the fate as bare dots!