when you look up to the sky at night
millions of brilliant spots of light
encicrcle the world
what a sight

three wise men were guided by one
people name them
they think its fun

clouds may keep them..out of sight
Gallileo studied them
to his delight

they been around us...so very long
before Jesus walked this very land

we take a minute....when we can
to stop ..look up and have a stare

we make love to each other
under there light
write poems about them...all the time

some people say...that they can read them
as for me
i don't believe em

our sign of birth...is made up of them
telescopes..will bring them close
the nearest one...is our sun

they are a gift from up above
he who made us
had so much love

eventually they will burn out
but there light still comes to us
as if never wanting to leave

they been here way before the earth was born
they shall remain
long after where gone

Tree branch scraping on the shed
scared to death
with feelings of dread
so **** dark
can't see a thing
somethings moving
and it ain't me
i wish to god
that i could see
although it's noon
blind as could be
you probably wonder
how this could be
lost my sight..in 63
hearing is sharper
than you can believe
you never get used to what
you can't see
and now you never like what you can hear
you stumble and fall
and you don't care
if you thought things bumped
in the night
before
try another 40 years
to even the score
it's scary...i'm weary
being in the dark
it's so sad
always missing the mark
you never felt loneliness ..like this before
so **** tough
when you can't find the door
hope one day to see a shimmer of light
dreaming of the return
of my sight
until then...i'm in the dark
bumping walls
not feeling smart
branch still scraping
on the shed
my sight has died
and gone to bed

I'm only happy in the dark
so you can't see my expression
so you can't feel my depression
I'm only happy in the dark

someday the dark will subside
my happiness will return
and again i will
shine

then i will be happy
in the sun

they call it the chamber
cold..gray..made of steel
a thick heavy door..with a submarine latch
it has two seats
i can never figure why
they put people in
just one at a time

the vat underneath the seat holds acid
the cyanide pellets in burlap bags
on fishing line
rolled on a real

the seat has hole's
for a more sickening feel

at the strike of twelve the switch is pulled
the real unwinds
to meet it's destination
in an acid bath
there is no escape
you made your bed
but instead of laying
your sitting


the only sound heard
is throbbing...your heart pushing blood..a mile a minute
not the last thing you ever wanna hear

hold your breath
as long as you  can
its your last chance
to make your stand
the gas rises up from under the chair
your veins protrude from your head
in thirty more seconds your surly dead

you wish you could take back
the wrong you did
as the air rushes out
you cry one last shout

you are now oblivious
your no longer with us
as the phone rings
its the red  phone
the voice on the other end of the line
says take him back
theres been a stay
its to late....the man's last  breath
is now venting through the roof
mixed with gas
and the real truth

no help is on the way


close the chamber
seal it up
it's done it's job
one i would never like to have