Jul 2019
This is my life
It can be fulfilled by three words
A couple of poems and writing for you
But, in God's writing and in the saints of this marching past
Days and dates have meant nothing to religious
Legends are pretty keen, it works out
But, all you make them out to be uncanny
Ought to be simple really, you are swift and softer
A presence of you may be adrift as I saw you roll in the darkness
Of the dance of seagulls, nightgown flashing like streetlamps
Streetlights can come to life, turpitude can grow softer
The dearth wailing and crimson deep wounds can crawl through
Fragments of time, and someplace elsewhere in this broken place
The light turns a little darker in the tunnel, cars coming up slowly
The tension of your calves driving and accelerating
Through century city and the steerings broken and street's the same
The limelight and broken and sights of the dancing birds might fly
As crazy like this little thing called forbidden love, tired and ordered
Keep the Hades at the bay of the hellish life we lead that reads like quaint quiet
The Caspian basin salty as the crisps of conversation, sludge dredge
Drudge and adjudicate this stream of solitude and the din ringing soundly the dimly lit freedom
In the candles of the wind, the dark meetings in the German massacre, hallowed by the talk of change
Probably, Beethoven can't hear the cries and feel the Holocaust victims and survivor hearts
Hearts of ***** used to graves dug up, burnt before the loss of civilization
The reality of this can be seen by the posterior, capricious, but, rather germane to our pain
There's nothing called sadness if you're numbed by pain
Oh! What a depressive state of mind that we cannot criminally be accused
The despicable demeanor of the inured can be seen in the unadulterated violence
Breaths are faltering at the sound of some guns, icy hands
Blitzkrieg Bop, as the bombs drop
The stolen conquest of the concentrated masses, eying at agendas
The propaganda of the influential ministers, the less I know the better
Creatures of the night, are you could be held mind tight
Like the night terrors, that grab my strangulated body
The fears won't leave the light, in the darkness of my deja vu
I feel I've been here before
I say that to you
To sure, that you can daydream and go high n' dry
Seeking inspiration from the sinister meaning of the poetic dahlias
Black, are they? Come up in the dilapidated beatnik motel
Ride about in heartbreak hotel
Too bad, this ****** sold out their tickets, to your show
Guess it's time to mend ways and think about friendly things
Butterflies ringing in the belly, that I've hatched upon, already
Guess, you're trying to lose some ways to say "you love me."
It can be fulfilled by three words
A couple of poems and writing for you
But, in God's writing and in the saints of this marching past
Days and dates have meant nothing to religious
Legends are pretty keen, it works out
But, all you make them out to be uncanny
Ought to be simple really, you are swift and softer
A presence of you may be adrift as I saw you roll in the darkness
Of the dance of seagulls, nightgown flashing like streetlamps
Streetlights can come to life, turpitude can grow softer
The dearth wailing and crimson deep wounds can crawl through
Fragments of time, and someplace elsewhere in this broken place
The light turns a little darker in the tunnel, cars coming up slowly
The tension of your calves driving and accelerating
Through century city and the steerings broken and street's the same
The limelight and broken and sights of the dancing birds might fly
As crazy like this little thing called forbidden love, tired and ordered
Keep the Hades at the bay of the hellish life we lead that reads like quaint quiet
The Caspian basin salty as the crisps of conversation, sludge dredge
Drudge and adjudicate this stream of solitude and the din ringing soundly the dimly lit freedom
In the candles of the wind, the dark meetings in the German massacre, hallowed by the talk of change
Probably, Beethoven can't hear the cries and feel the Holocaust victims and survivor hearts
Hearts of ***** used to graves dug up, burnt before the loss of civilization
The reality of this can be seen by the posterior, capricious, but, rather germane to our pain
There's nothing called sadness if you're numbed by pain
Oh! What a depressive state of mind that we cannot criminally be accused
The despicable demeanor of the inured can be seen in the unadulterated violence
Breaths are faltering at the sound of some guns, icy hands
Blitzkrieg Bop, as the bombs drop
The stolen conquest of the concentrated masses, eying at agendas
The propaganda of the influential ministers, the less I know the better
Creatures of the night, are you could be held mind tight
Like the night terrors, that grab my strangulated body
The fears won't leave the light, in the darkness of my deja vu
I feel I've been here before
I say that to you
To sure, that you can daydream and go high n' dry
Seeking inspiration from the sinister meaning of the poetic dahlias
Black, are they? Come up in the dilapidated beatnik motel
Ride about in heartbreak hotel
Too bad, this ****** sold out their tickets, to your show
Guess it's time to mend ways and think about friendly things
Butterflies ringing in the belly, that I've hatched upon, already
Guess, you're trying to lose some ways to say "you love me."
