He closed his eyes on his weekly stroll,
And pondered on what it would be; if he'd known,
That it'd be a golden paved death - he'd lay with his dole.
Would all the trench boys still ****** to dug out holes?

Many bitter nights with malice to his brain,
Thought lasting the hardship would be the 'all okay'.
The flag would save him; The flag would eradicate the pain,
But the flag hollowed him out and the trench boys all the same.

What must we do in such a caviler present age?
Sign petitions in false hope of changing the unchanged?
The ol' trench boys still rot in sheltered accommodation.
Gave their live; their youth; their back and front tooth,
For their isolated treasured nation.

You're too arrogant to admit I've been to hell,
Even when I left they asked me not to tell.
But they hold no fear over me; those Scarlots and Sinners,
You may judge when I open up; but it was my soul to sell.

I pranced through hell and painted it black,
Stole my own soul and they're not getting it back.
I saw so much and I laughed at the pain,
You can't taint a heart that's already been chained.

Some have since called me the 'Devil' and it's just as well,
'Cause I stood on the Youth and Laughter left in hell.
If you look deep in my eyes; you'd see the pain that recites,
Lost art in the torture of an arrogant mind.

Anna lived in 3 walls and iron bars,
Put down for; as if she were rabid dog.
Pleaded virtuous to the homicide up the park,
Veritas is what she spoke; her mind was in no fog.

Anna struggled in the slammer; an easy target,
Holly was the girl who made her "life" a living hell.
Day in; Day out; she obliterated the passion to live through it,
And started to dream of a Rose Cottage; outside her cell.

Anna was cocksure of a way out; a one way ticket,
So she lacerated her bed sheets at the crack of dawn.
"Morituri te salutant" read the ticket,
On the Rose Cottage train; or as some call "The Morgue"

Simon was a straight A who made the grade,
But crippling news hit him like Brook's *****.
He fell into to some beastly vices and adrift was his mind,
Stumbled back up the path less traveled and down the path of the blind.

You see Simon spent his caged days in **** houses,
He was the dirt on the walls as well as the blood on the floor.
I'm sure the filth was bursting with dreary happiness and memories of Farmhouses,
Splendid days were they; when Simon had control of the Devils door.

Simon's offering his all to get clean - but it's impossible when you gawk at the TV,
A Prince marrying to a straight A Yankee, he insinuated "A happiness that seems so far from me".

That's all I can seem to recollect from my parley with Simon,
I'm sure he sundered into a rabbit hole of despair because of the Nirvana he'll never live in.

I placed Roses on the gates to Agartha,
And receded to my knees awaiting purgation.
The Earths crux; the home of the holiest harbour,
Defying my sins in hopes I become host to holy invasion.  

Now I wasn't no Martyr and I wasn't no Libertine,
I even come bearing my soul drenched kerosene.
I wailed out "I beg forgiveness for all my sins - I beg forgiveness for everything",
As the thorns from the Roses pierced my skin.

I stained the golden gates with my blood,
as I cursed the Roses to eternal fire.
Each petal wilted down and turned black with my flood, encased in barbed wire.
No mercy for a mere boy soaked in frustration and pain,
Who feared the gates to Agartha to seal;  and never to be opened again.

Travis and Charlie were the best of
friends,
They shared the interest of Fireball and Gin.
They adored dressing up in alleyways and pretend,
That they were Princes and the next of Kin.

Travis fell putrid with the nullifying of his Liver,
He tried to Coax the Prince but he chucked.
The Prince turned his back on Travis' Treason River,
Lost himself in the memories in a bottle corrupt.

The tragic dismay that followed suit,
Electrified junkies and liars alike too.
Travis dressed up in his Sunday best;
To see his once best friend laid to rest.

Daisy was like a flower in Autumn,
She had a face just like chalk.
Daisy had a heart that burnt auburn,
And had eyes reminiscent of a hawks.

Daisy flew from April to May,
As her happiness drained from her eyes.
Daisy flew from glee to dismay,
The devil often made her cry.

Daisy tried so ever much,
But Daisy could never fight enough,
And Daisy wilted into the ground,
Just another soul in hells lost and found.