The clock was ticking.
I sat waiting for a miracle from God.
At the end of a lifetime, it dawned upon me.
It was the ticking of the clock.

A man died for his God today
took some others with him
decided their fate
and made the world
just a little more broken

A man stood before God today
His life is over
or just beginning
depending on what God says
He says I can't leave it like this

you caused pain
increased suffering
there's a world down there screaming for justice
He says I can't leave it like this

I see your heart
it's dark
but also broken
I know your pain
and how it came to this

A man died for his God today
he left a world behind
screaming for justice

but a God died for men some day
He died for this man
He died for this mess
He died for justice
but mostly for love

Being in love
Is like a break in the clouds
And all of a sudden
That single, solitary ray of light
Shines right upon you

Be so fractioned
my split personality be split
Never know who's comin' out
Kinda like the laundry mat
Does mine at the Wishy Washy

Funny how things get all separated
Whites all in a pile over here
Darks and colors over there
Breaks it down even further

Gotta lotta red
so that gets its own pile
whilst medium and light colors
be divided

Blacks and blues
just lumped together
Then it just gets all mixed up again

'Cause truth is
don't gots the dough to through
down that many loads

This riles Señorita Clarita
Thinks I'm cheap
so mostly, I end up lookin' like some
techno tie-dyed fruit basket
in girly pants

Yeah, still be wearin'
my sister's hand-me-downs
Be some hard times for
The Poet Launderette

I hate writing in pentameter,
That nagging old parameter reduces
The breadth of expression's diameter.
It's a barrier, a boundary, a cage built around me.
I'd rather cast off the impediment and
Allow my thoughts to sediment freely,
Really, I just can't dig it, ya feel me?  
After a while, it gets so **** repetitive, and
I'll bet it did drive Shakespeare nuts
When he wrote all his sonnets, back
When lords rocked big wigs and their
Ladies wore bonnets. That's another thing
It's been used and abused for like six *******
Centuries, contemptibly does this old relic
Haunt us and daunt us and taunt us
Writing's not meant to be a chore,  
It shouldn't bore and indenture me, but
Rather, set me free me and
Instead be adventure, see?

Wow.
I'm Somehow,
Feeling much better now.