I have eaten all your brothers;
you're the only one that's left.
The last soldier for the slaughter.
Your last moments before death.

I'm a man made in God's image,
You're a nut born in a field.
And the trick to your undoing
is the ***** inside your shield.

So my hand descends from heaven
and it lifts you to the sky.
Then I pull but you hold steady,
you stand firm although I pry.

You have won oh mighty peanut.
'Gainst this beast survival's bleak.
Not from strength did you prevail
But by having nothing weak.

Bound and led the quiet man,
delivered up to me.
"Put him to death, the blasphemer",
was the people's plea.

My wife sent word to wash my hands,
she suffered in a dream.
I tried with water before the mob,
it didn't make me clean.

I put a sign above the cross,
the one I made him bring.
I killed a greater man than I,
he truly was the king.

Every year comes less defining.

Deeper roots and with less pining.

Past decisions, cobblestone.

Better think before you sow.

Hiking makes a man near sighted,
running makes him blind.

Stop and gaze at the horizon,
see with open mind.

My shortcut took months longer.

Though not steeper
Much more winding,
And not deeper
Yet more pining.

Take a shot,
And scar your liver.
But the easy way's
Upriver

A retired man returns to work:
he's tired of his freedom.
Watched every show,
Read many books,
The lone-king of his kingdom.

A life of striving, working, waiting,
finally completed.
Now finds it empty,
finds it wasted,
hope has been depleated.

He woke at last before his death,
and let out one last sigh.
Reflections hurt,
Regrets aplenty,
Long past time to die.