A prisoner of earth that will never belong
A child that doesn't have wrong
And cannot talk  for thine  language is song

Silver, pink flowers
the maze roads
seeing a dream
a sound

I go out to breath, I inhale what cleanliness their is, my chest heaves
At this hour their is no sound but the  leaves
And so I am taken aback when I hear a birdsong,
The timid creature cautiously creeps out from under the eaves,
And I go to fetch a scrap of something for it, I hold out the crumbs to it on the palm of my hand and it teethes, then the bird fly's away and I sneeze, As I go on back to bed I suddenly cannot breath, My body fails me and I convulse and fall off the stair and break my knees, Oh for if only I had wings, I lay their crumpled up and pay my actions fees.

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