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"Fruit of the Vine" by 'Sloth'
How I wish I could be God,
And all of you be below me;
How I wish I could shed blood,
And therein set you free...
For, would I could but all destroy,
I'd then judge by all denials thine;
I'd hold you to the truth of joy,
As grape holds to the withered vine.
For you, my love, the chardonnay,
Is what becomes of life-long dreams;
An instant where a death may pray,
To live again by other means.
And so, my wishes might resolve,
To be both God and Oddity;
If in your heart the Grape revolves,
'Twix mortal and eternity.
For how I wish I could be God,
But how I loathe to stand above;
I'd rather till that lowly clod,
If Grape ferments to wine of love...
And what is any mortal life that's lived, but a
distillation of the soul? What is the soul, but a Grape
grown from the flesh? What is the flesh, but our ultimate
And what, then, is a God? The need to rule, and to make
images for prayer? Or the wish to never be alone again, to
bring forth from despair?
I only know the God who lives in me is just a wish, a
dream of both destruction and eternal glory. And it is
mine alone to decide whether I leave behind me a desert,
or the fruit of the vine that is my life. Either way, I am
mortal and will not drink of the wine that comes after
Only those who live beyond my death will ever know if the
seeds I've sown in their soil of souls brings forth a wine
worthy of drinking, or if I have caused the destruction of
And ultimately, we must all be wary of our 'gods' bearing
gifts of the soul; we never know their effects until it's
too late for denial. We are truly the fruit of our own
vines, and only our flavour can live on once we have