Aged Gods

In fear of the unhappiness to come, do we all choose to be unhappy now? Suppose this is all we know: the tears of our mother, the blood that swabs us clean. Ruins in the gawk of the gods, and I espoused doom in the shadows. It's in the epicenter of our minds. We take a lonely path through the boulevard of the aged gods. Beneath the darkest sky, the corpse still asks why we always flee when death comes to feast. I go singing, a wreck, down the road of the aged gods. Who will be the last to die in the land where cadavers cry? Who will be the last to remain when it's only god and pain? There is nothing greater than the voices from the grave. Only they can tell us why. Only they will never lie about the reason we stand rotten in the road to the aged gods.