*claps, hands out flowers, chocolates* My turn
Salvation sky, a saving expanse for a barren land. A place for Peacekeeper Jones. A land for the spirit, a land with a sound of its own. At night, sounds to chill the cleanest soul covered and bedded up tight. A day as quiet as quiet can be, a silence that makes its own noise. In rides Peacemaker Jones, a priest on mission from God and a mission of self. Following Grave Robber Bones.
A trail of skulls behind him, an empty sky above. A shovel over a shoulder held by burned left hand. Grave Robber Bones chased by Peacemaker Jones for six empty shells far done. Slugs that ate and tore away, robbed them of theirs and them. A leer and a step, no sound as he left. Killing the air as he went. Up at the church you could see as he stepped. Painful as pleasure can be.
Angel wings light as air, Feathers made of smoke. Smoke white as December snow. Cloth blind eyes, eyes pure in their hidden mask less place. Bandaged LeperÃ¢Â€Â™s hands with charred blackened tips. Lace less sandaled beach combed feet, feet that tread on airless space unknown. Angel arms and spirit palms a weapon never held. Resistance never felt, resistance never given. Welcomes you in, welcoming peacemaker Jones.
I'll abdicate at the drop of a hat