There's a house on the street
There's a room in the house
There's a bed on the room
There's a man on the bed

He has a mind that flies
A soul that blows
A heart that loves
and a force that cries

An idea on his mind
a struggle in his head
the words that he can't find
to express when he'll be dead.

There's a poet in the bed
with the spirit of a child
a spirit driving wild
the end waits just ahead.

when people think about other's lives
they forget theirs
what about god
does he forget himself
is  it hard to remember
so why  are  we thinging  the future
god will always remember us as his fist

Merry Margaret
  As midsummer flower,
  Gentle as falcon
  Or hawk of the tower:
With solace and gladness,
Much mirth and no madness,
All good and no badness;
    So joyously,
    So maidenly,
    So womanly
    Her demeaning
    In every thing,
    Far, far passing
    That I can indite,
    Or suffice to write
  Of Merry Margaret
  As midsummer flower,
  Gentle as falcon
  Or hawk of the tower.
  As patient and still
  And as full of good will
  As fair Isaphill,
  Coliander,
  Sweet pomander,
  Good Cassander;
  Steadfast of thought,
  Well made, well wrought,
  Far may be sought,
  Ere that ye can find
  So courteous, so kind
  As merry Margaret,
  This midsummer flower,
  Gentle as falcon
  Or hawk of the tower.

Remember all those promises you made
Time caught up and made them fade

Now they are gone with the flow
Of times to come and times to go

And when the wind stops to blow
By then I'll be ready to go

To leave you behind envying me
For what I am and what I shall be

I'll overpower the ties that bind
Because now I see I'm no longer blind