Mar 2020
It is the bleak month of March
Colder than most
Yellow smoke comes out of the lower city
Turns the corner as I look around for apple trees in bloom
O'er by the streets the curtains hide stains
Most of us are cannot bear to stare
As we find love and loss together
No matter the cost as is always hard to bear
Love is the only innocence I fear
How much I need to be loved!
I've turned to money, ****** and mere crisis
Should I push the moment to senility
What more tools do I possess
As we bunch our posessions and indecisions
Soon we will have no choice but merely the tragedy of guilt
Many can say goodbye with poignancy
If the loss of hope is a short dance
Let the flowers bloom before they wilt demurred
Then of to dance with death is to find their rightful place
****** rosebuds gather while ye' may
In the forests of nature's blossom
Many people cannot let their fate weave
As their end nears and hope will not relieve the troubled soul
The fine things of life shall clear the clouds of doubts
Life is celebrated as their mind plunders their false notions
Window panes are shuttered and prisoners motion from inside
My mind is cluttered as it reminds itself
Don't get too clever or proud
They claim fortune favors the first
Because when the love's dead
You can hear time's winged chariot hurry near
So does the insipid illness of worry
As we wait for hope and ask love to hurry
You'll see that anger if you look close
In my eyes of insidious intent
Where civilization retreats in a lurid murmur
As the music of my mind plays and dances
I ask myself if I dare to be free
If I profess my love and take chances
Then my doubts follow
And my observations and destiny wait
At the crossroads to take a different step
My misshapen head is full of thin hair
The Ballad of The Thin Man plays
As I tap on my thighs amidst banter
They say bring his head on a platter
It's no great matter to take the poison of indignation
As the bitter matters settles with a smile and a tip of the hat
If I resign myself to the muses of my mother
And the dogma of my brother and sister makes me small
'Twixt my first novel is thrown from the shelves of the town hall
Now my hat is worn out and so is my smile
Colder than most
Yellow smoke comes out of the lower city
Turns the corner as I look around for apple trees in bloom
O'er by the streets the curtains hide stains
Most of us are cannot bear to stare
As we find love and loss together
No matter the cost as is always hard to bear
Love is the only innocence I fear
How much I need to be loved!
I've turned to money, ****** and mere crisis
Should I push the moment to senility
What more tools do I possess
As we bunch our posessions and indecisions
Soon we will have no choice but merely the tragedy of guilt
Many can say goodbye with poignancy
If the loss of hope is a short dance
Let the flowers bloom before they wilt demurred
Then of to dance with death is to find their rightful place
****** rosebuds gather while ye' may
In the forests of nature's blossom
Many people cannot let their fate weave
As their end nears and hope will not relieve the troubled soul
The fine things of life shall clear the clouds of doubts
Life is celebrated as their mind plunders their false notions
Window panes are shuttered and prisoners motion from inside
My mind is cluttered as it reminds itself
Don't get too clever or proud
They claim fortune favors the first
Because when the love's dead
You can hear time's winged chariot hurry near
So does the insipid illness of worry
As we wait for hope and ask love to hurry
You'll see that anger if you look close
In my eyes of insidious intent
Where civilization retreats in a lurid murmur
As the music of my mind plays and dances
I ask myself if I dare to be free
If I profess my love and take chances
Then my doubts follow
And my observations and destiny wait
At the crossroads to take a different step
My misshapen head is full of thin hair
The Ballad of The Thin Man plays
As I tap on my thighs amidst banter
They say bring his head on a platter
It's no great matter to take the poison of indignation
As the bitter matters settles with a smile and a tip of the hat
If I resign myself to the muses of my mother
And the dogma of my brother and sister makes me small
'Twixt my first novel is thrown from the shelves of the town hall
Now my hat is worn out and so is my smile
