I know the feeling alive
will always sunset die,
I'm losing perspective,
Losing channels to live.
Like the bacon to the fry,
Puzzling child's why
No mood motivation,
to hold on affectionately.
A valley under the skies
The eagle magnificently flies
and butter in the mouth
demons head on south.
And a kiss that's lovingly
so expressive of heavenly,
when strikes comes the wood
It would be easy if I could.
But this one's the saint
and my ink would ever taint,
pink looks on gaspingly
dripping wet is her hair
and her perfect expression.........