Collapse and draw

Buff the enamel.
Fell sympathy, for a shade that dwells in the concave of a note.
The octave postpones the inevitable queue to follow, of words no heard or rather, not understood.

Scrape the barrel, the waters are deep for a simple task it is to sow.
Fetch the dying, dye the day, collapse in silence for the words that you may not hear.
Tie the noose, the man shall hang.

Listen for the orifices in the shallows, the notes are leaking, thus the sound, may seem flat.
Tire the flames and extinguish the water, makes not for the sense it may occur, what you drag down the drain.
Tell the times, when the sands have ran low.

Score for the ancestors, the shadows that they cast so low, for the sweeps and stakes that clobber and cower.
Know how to, knock three times, collapse as you encage.
Throw away all sense of self, all sense of pride.

Scorch the pastures, for no life must prevail, the offers for pagan gods, the offers that shall prevail?
Choose the chore, score and prevail, the deed that follows is a deed to claim.
Task the living, entrail the scheming, set the schism and prepare to fail.

Look low, for the lowest are at an all time low, for the lowest score the simplest row.
Discover the misfortune, the pride to sell.
Trow away all that is present, the fall before the storm, the winter before the war.

Buff the enamel.
Finish the painting glass.
The hour is nigh, the silent shall understand.

Stir the pot and lay the hand to rest.