Music is a language
spoken by so few
yet, inspires so many
To be not deaf
and not hear it
would be a cruel twist
of irony

Fall reminds me of the evening
It flows into the Winter's night
Springtime is tomorrow's dawning
of the Summer's enduring light
A year, a day
Who's to say
how much time
we have to play
and revel in each season's sweet delight

How can we awaken
without crying
How can we question
without tears
How do we answer
without lying
How do we laugh
without fear

I have an applecart
It's contents are just so
Everything has it's place
Everything a row
I know too well
that if I let
the applecart
get too upset
I'll change into a man
I do not know

Take my face
into your hands
and tell me
that you love me
Though a reason
for each grain of sand
exists for you to spurn me

The anxious face
sketches like a mothman
with two fiery red eyes
amidst a flurry of large violent lines of black ink
that look more like the claw marks
of an animal
desperate for escape

From 3 o’clock till
half past 4
is when the monster
is at your door
If you are careless
And let him in
that’s when the nightmare
will begin
He’ll shave your head
to leave it bare
and he will be back
to enter there
Then you will know
there’s no such thing
as a harmless dream