Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2012
Well I took my money to the bank
So I could start to get to living right
But the bank was stolen and Mr. Molten
Was shot dead, so where should I begin?

Never knew my father nor my mother either
Old grandpa died on the bed a true believer
I don't blame the world for my problems
No I don't blame anyone for the troubles I got
Expect for God and these holy socks

When the river dried up because of the rain
I took another job to try and get me sane
Well I burned the place down and
My favorite boss Ross
Got me aressted for drinking all his gin

"A screamer and a holler he was."
The man in black said
"To bleed is to be human."
As he coughed up old lunch flem

Well I walked with Jesus through a sand storm
He didn't say much as he chewed on some corn
The others started crying as their shoes kept untying
I kept quiet for I knew the man wasn't lying

I ain't no believer any longer
All these books have took its toll
But I know when the gospel singers sing
There is only one kind of metal that
Makes those kinds of bells ring

Down in the forest the toads go croak
Kings built their castles with a round about mote
I always laughed when I heard
About something crazy like that

But in those holes there are only two things
Dirt for the worms that wriggle and squirm
And dead air for the dead
That rather would be alive instead

And when I mix my roses
For the one I know I love
It smells as sweet as can be
Just like a gun and its snub

And when I started falling for you
There was only one call then my cue
I took off my coat and
I hung up my hat and knew
As soon as I'd gotten there that
This place is where I'd be at

An introduction to the green open valleys
And leaves that hang like pirates in the galleys
Penny tossers with their high classed arcades
And all those card players
Playing with their hand full of queen spades

If you hear the bell with the yell
Will you tell me so?
Because my hell ain't your gel,
Unless you gotta' go?
But if you don't and aren't burnt,
Let me know so the show
Won't be ruined for the rest of the crowd

In this night we are all on our last thread
The beads of sweat trickle
Like a puzzle that can't be said or read
And the man who doth solve
All the riddles of the world
Is left only with a curse
That can not be shook
Only to be read about
In an ancient library book
Written by
Mitchell
548
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems