Pagoda, Pagoda,
My humble terrace by the sea.
Wayshrine for the hopeless
and the seekers of eternal ecstasy.
Why do they mistreat you so?
Ever accepting of our whimsical, hedonic presence,
you gave us shelter from the slobbering pigs and their execution sentence.
And still they ripped your gleaming limbs from you.
Those who claimed to love you.

Pagoda, Pagoda
so far from the corporate machine
living in an emerald midsummer dream
we must have lost our way along the chemical shores.
When the harsh confines of reality glared at my salt stained face
you treated me to warm freedom and a welcoming embrace
despite my turning a blind eye to your pain
and the savages who left you discarded.

Pagoda, Pagoda,
you were left hastily deserted
once summers tender muscles were exerted
and the liches stretched their frigid claws once again.
Now just an  ashen memory
while we count the hours in this glacial penitentiary
and wait for the beacon to bless us with its lazy gaze
and the return of our boardwalk paradise.

Keep your bags held high
try to keep your feet dry
the water's coming soon
will we ever see the sky?

Consumed by fright
we are strangers to the night
street sweepers on the move
burning little ladies in the night

To dream, to live, to be,
we will suffer in the streets
and one day hope to leave
our little penthouse by the sea

Social cleansing in the streets
soldiers armed to the teeth
we pray we will be safe
they dare not go beneath

Step into the abyss
men shouldnt live like this
to escape the death squads
sweet darkness we will kiss.

To dream, to live, to be,
we will suffer in the streets
and one day hope to leave
our little penthouse by the sea

Our children born and raised
in the stinking sewer cave
we'll toss the coin of misery
and pray to god we will be saved.

So I lay here
Close to the wall
And I hear the birds call
For death has been coming near

There is secret
I haven't told them
I can't let them worry
And I can't let them see

I smile at the laughs
Pretending they won't be the last
And getting ready
To hang my wrists

Yet all truths have an end
And it's done to play pretend
I need to tell you all something
I'm dying

T'was a night before christmas
and all through my heart
was a glistening
knowing I had done all
I could to brighten
one soul, maybe two
and slept peaceful.


Now it is Christmas,
the day of our saviors birth.
We have lights arranged to celebrate
and toys for every boy and girl
but, you are so far away, and
I would ask Santa for just one real kiss,
on Christmas, from Vicki, my only babay!

Merry Christmas, Babay!
I do love you!