Noctrome

What I would have to know
To follow the sound of the show
Down past the burning buildings
To the dead things’ rodeo

Where corpses rise to ride
Mounts of bone and hide
And dead bulls take down matadors
While dead spectators decide

Who is good and true and right
Who is favored of the night
That lasts forever, like a fever
Who has wisdom, and, alone

is mighty.