There is no bullet

There is no brain

What you are looking through is

Artificially sane

Like a torn out chapter.

In the pledged book of lies

When you’re using your craft or

Still destoy all your ties.

In a desperate purchase 

Of your right to survive

Just additional surcharge

 Of an unfiring rifle.

Just additional fire-

Works of your dreams.

Just a torn [worn] out tire

Lost in glimmering gleams.