False Build - East Of The Wall

The wandering stranger assaults you with guilt, not with guile

The spoken word, spurious.

It likely wouldn’t push one to sway

With doubtful experience, it plotted us a path that wound back again

The halls are cavernous and twist the sound as bait

Quickly drawn away, open jaw.

Dig the hook inside while we bray

Now the horns' blows have carried away and we’re remorseful for the call

When the very life of you is swept away and reverent then what worth have you?

The air we breathe is the air we’ll be bellowing.

How loud claps the storm?

What fury will we swallow away?