A Smiling Epitaph

Red-eyed angry angels
Never need a reason why
Beware the hounds, beware the mire
Beware the red-eyed angel’s fire
Hear them singing a black chorus
Heard them laughing while you cry
Beware the bells toll evening
Beware of what you left behind
Wise is the child who knows all is changing
Gone are the clouds when her birds start singing
And where she walks it will rain
And wash their worlds away
And in their place, a living grace
Will forever stay
Inner doors, outer rooms
Slither scales, flying plumes
Salt and iron filigree
On the masks of those not free
Feel the sinking
Hear the sound
Of the people below the down
And choke on money
And spit the seeds
Then find purchase in filigree