Some would trade anything for it, some would trade it for anything,
But the baby lives, and the baby cries unless someone  dares to bring it's demise, it lives on and learns to walk straight but like a pig fattened for slaughter it is pampered then left at an others gate, sent to prison for sixteen years at the mercy of others, perhaps for happiness but perhaps for tears,
The baby has done nothing wrong the child was only born

"Let me out" the figure in the painting calls
"Let me out of these one dimensional walls"

The figure of oil  let's out a sirenic drawl, that hypnotizes the starer
and makes him fall

nothing can hurt you but infinity is all

"How I love it when people fret, how I love the god of storm set"
"How I love that melancholy tune you play , it sings dark and wet, I am as dark as they come, you will never find a soul as black as mine, I bet"
"Come now what a terrible tune is that, so gay it makes me sweat?"
'It's an aria from a requiem originally a quartet'
'And that melancholy tune, is a minuet'

A smile for the frowners
A flower for the thorns
Only around the kind do you use your horns

The traveler has no home, the traveler is never sown, the travelers dearest companion is his pack, he only keeps what he can carry on his back.
No one want's to be the traveler, the traveler knows, except for the traveler  because the traveler knows that the tune that makes him travel is more precious then any home and he won't settle for anything less then his own.

a butterfly went out one day
it dropped a flower by the bay
as it went on , on its way the butterfly flew a stray and got caught in a spiders web  and lay their left to pray