I'm finding it hard these days
To watch loved one's fade
Once strong and vibrant spirits
Looking for a way to escape

Leaving behind the mark
That runs forever deep
It's just a fact when there's little left
All that you have are the memories

I tend to find I'm not far behind
Before long, I'll follow suit
Where it'll be me that's has the need
In bed instead of those I knew

As life goes round in circles
Not caring who it claims
Puts no thought into most it all
Then turns and takes none of the blame

That's why I find it difficult
As we gather by bedsides
Waiting for the last exhale
Being the final attempt at goodbye

See you on the other side...

I'm pretty much up for this
Fairly down with that
Waiting for Sunday
To give it a rest

Fast forward in motion
On the move on the go
Will I ever learn
It's okay to say no

How much more can I take
As good as anyone's guess
Waiting for Sunday
To give it a rest

Running in place
Tired on my feet
If I had known
Would I be in this deep

On this spinning wheel
Ready to wreak
Waiting for Sunday
For a much-needed rest

It all starts off simple enough
All it takes is just one puff
Before you careen down the road to extreme
Every single addict knows what I mean

It won't hurt a bit to take a sip
You might even get to liking it
Before you know you're full fledge in the throe
Of the one place you swore you'd never go

It might start off as a prayer request
Have you heard about, you won't believe this
Both gossip and slander can be a heavy load
Don't take the road of what you don't know

There are times we might need to relax
But more often than not it becomes laziness
Expecting others to carry your load
Take responsibility for all that you owe

At all times be on your guard
It's easy to fool a wanting heart
Like a roaring lion Satan wants complete control
Ready to devour your soul

Don't give the Devil a foothold

haven't seen it in the movies
never read it in a book
and if you don't believe me
feel free to take a look

isn't plastered on a billboard
high above the boulevard
neither have I seen it
written in the stars

it never once made an appearance
on the channel MTV
or a show with Jacques Cousteau
at the bottom ocean deep

never felt it in the wind
or the chill inside my bones
rolling up a hill
or in a crowd alone

isn't poured out from a bottle
with a *****-top or a cork
though sometimes when it's spoon fed
you can eat it with a fork

what it is I'm trying to find
either will or won't
be the perfect line
on which to end this poem

Little Bobby Norton
Disappeared that cold Winters night
No one saw it coming
But none were that surprised

There had always been the rumors
Floating round these parts for years
Still nothing does hit harder
Than a womans desperate tears

Rumors from the children
Spoke of haunted woods just past dusk
And the thing about little Bobby
Is he'd always been curious

The town brought in the trackers
Who showed up with hound dogs
Bringing assurance to the masses
They'd stop at no cost

With underlying whispers
They'd bring him back dead or alive
Spent the night looking for clues
Hoping for some sort of sign...

As I tell this story
Fourteen years have long gone past
They never did find Bobby
And sadly, he wasn't the last

You hear every so often
Another kid does not come home
Yet no one goes out searching
They've found it's best if left alone

All the parents can do is try
But sometimes it's not enough
Cause just like little Bobby Norton
Some kids are just curious

If I only knew...
This would be my last day
Here on this solid ground
Before I go away

If I only knew...
This was our last kiss
Would this moment be
Any different than this

If I only knew...
What tomorrow brings
Would it change my attitude
On most everything

If I only knew...
Or at least had a clue
Would I try and think twice
On all that I do

If I only knew...
A question so often asked
Would I follow through
Or again let it pass

If I only knew...

if you never hear the other side
of the argument
how do you expect to turn the tide
on those you suppose are listening

if you stay inside your bubble
underneath moss covered stone
the ideas you live with
will eventually die with you alone

if you take your crooked fingers
and jam them in your ears
you have made it clear
that you refuse to hear

how can i try and simplify
that ignorance is bliss
and you my friend are blissfully ignorant
if you play a part in this

if the direction that you choose
begs from you an ounce of truth
with dead-end sign in plain sight
it might be you that has no clue

and all because you refuse
to see beyond the hate in you