Even gods fall from their thrones,
Reach the ground to break their bones
And paint the floor a vivid red,
When splitting their all knowing heads
By finding out the truth

Halos bend with little force,
False as the space between their holes;
They glow less as they see distress,
They descend as the world's wounds show

Pods fall from the trees
And gods fall with that same ease,
To remind us of the world's disease,
Its spins upon a crooked axis;

We're to compensate for this,
By walking with an angled lean
And holding our heads left or right,
Always knowing how to fight;

But, the patterns pick their paths,
And as we lean and crook our amble,
As we look down twisting halls,
No matter what, the pods fall