A storm clouds the horizon
Like smoke on the battlefield
Have I used that metaphor previously?
Sometimes I cannot remember
But of course I am not talking about a real storm
Or real clouds or a real horizon
There is no real smoke except for that which plumes from your mouth
Tobacco sickness sour
There is no field
But there is a battle
There is always a battle
There has always been a battle with you
It is just the subject that changes
What makes it different this time?
It is the big one
What are the stakes?
Do I want to fight this fight?
Wage this war and spar with this opponent I have been fighting for a life time?
No… no, I do not
But will I do it to protect my everything? Will I do it for happiness? Will I do it for safety?
Do not underestimate me again because I will fight you for eternity…
Hear me roar
Hear me howl
Hear my battle cry
I hope it haunts your dreams like you once did mine
Ringing in your ears in the quiet moments before sleep
I hope you like the taste of defeat.
And I love the smell of smoke.
I don’t need no water.
I’ll let this motherfucker burn.