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jean-rojasPoems
The dark demons in my head Would all proclaim, The pain is dead The shot so hard The price so high As gawking, ghoulish grins Come forward to flaunt The chains emasculating me In wild, ecliptical regressions Pressuring my senses To lie in a calm That no longer exists The needles of my peace Frustrate my confidence, sublime As i await the restoration of my sanity The renaissance of my agility So i squander reality Like a cyclone About to unfold A devastation This whirling charade goes on Until the hours Have long passed their bedtime The magic of the wasted clowns Begins.... If i share with you my story Will you tell a different tale? For what I am about to say Would cost my heart The tears i’ve cried in vain But i must tell it just the same Do not close your eyes Nor cover your ears If the pretty pictures fade For there will surely be Devils where i come from Within my room Inside my head When the magic drugs me To sleep Dreams are often dark and deep Sorry slumbers shattering A shivering soul Predestined to meet its end Where drunken cannibals blend Into a wretched scenario Of an afternoon in hell There is no awakening Once the reason is shed There is no truth To the demons in my head No truth at all About what they said No truth at all That the pain is really dead It never was And never will be... Once the magic of the Wasted clowns Start to begin..
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Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 2:35 AM UTC
Wasted Clowns
The dark demons in my head Would all proclaim, The pain is dead The shot so hard The price so high As gawking, ghoulish grins Come forward to flaunt The chains emasculating me In wild, ecliptical regressions Pressuring my senses To lie in a calm That no longer exists The needles of my peace Frustrate my confidence, sublime As i await the restoration of my sanity The renaissance of my agility So i squander reality Like a cyclone About to unfold A devastation This whirling charade goes on Until the hours Have long passed their bedtime The magic of the wasted clowns Begins.... If i share with you my story Will you tell a different tale? For what I am about to say Would cost my heart The tears i’ve cried in vain But i must tell it just the same Do not close your eyes Nor cover your ears If the pretty pictures fade For there will surely be Devils where i come from Within my room Inside my head When the magic drugs me To sleep Dreams are often dark and deep Sorry slumbers shattering A shivering soul Predestined to meet its end Where drunken cannibals blend Into a wretched scenario Of an afternoon in hell There is no awakening Once the reason is shed There is no truth To the demons in my head No truth at all About what they said No truth at all That the pain is really dead It never was And never will be... Once the magic of the Wasted clowns Start to begin..
For: Kurt Cobain         1997
#kurtcobain
jean-rojas
Written by
jean-rojas
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 2:35 AM UTC
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