Book of the Swarthy Cassonade: Chapter I - The Withered Persona

As the clog scales the mountains in slumber
Jagged gusts unearth the monumental blister
Wailing with a shriek of mutiny, the cask bursts a deluge
Minute hand goes limp to the corroding vanes
Ashen torment mists the eyes that refuge
Deep in dusk to civilize with the havoc remains

The clog was enslaved to stupor for a reason
Raised amid the blunders, prone to treason
Concealed by the vermilion he needed to forge
Spawns the irresistible stand, a restless thrall
Pricked by the needle, a dent in the malignant gorge
Caves in and expires with a frantic gush of gall

The luster crumbles under what the clog can't atone
Last gap that emanates the verve abandons with a groan
Thriving heaps of echoes perfected a beacon
Scorned by an impudent arrogance the glands exert
Expected to restore the sinews of the nation
Only conceived a sedimentary empire of hurt