Fire in't

Irony is something I invented to describe my alienation
I die in the desert, die of dehydration
Then when I wis older; resented the swarm
Lived for the fire in’t centre of the storm
Relative morality, it’s a relative reality
Unsure how to live in extreme totality
Reached out the next time I wis born
Towards the second coming it’s re spawn
Though my fingers my shake
Though my arms may quiver
Mark me, I cannot deliver, cannot even consider
The finale, because then something makes me laugh
And paper is too thick to cut through