There was the boy who run away
to get away from the city life,
Almost perching among the flowers,
baring water to escape his strife.

And the boy who run from the country
Wouldn't answer to God's decrees,
a church was just a hell fire blame,
lacking innocence and a sense of shame.

Bells ring and the shape of innocence
A nightclub stamp is what it meant
A flight-ful bird in the heart-felt hours
as the raw bird is as the bread is flour,
Following time-line is shameless,
The youth and their abuse
Sees themselves as the blameless
and false is their telling the truth.

There's a line and its not always followed.
Like the man whose insides are hollowed
A cat in a bag can't always scratch out,
like endanger to the eggs birds are about
Like a flute without the fluid of lips,
gentle is the mouth of an early morning sip,
dry mouth of a hot early Spring morning.

I wish inside I carried no past demons,
They taste more sour than bitter of lemons,
They smell worse than a car's gasoline
A putrid worse than a night of Halloween
of the decay of left-over smashed eggs
and of this life and the abyss that's between

I sleep 18 hours to see her face,
hoping a few minutes to embrace,
It never happens like in the movies,
I'm borrowing on needless previews

Its like a sneering from a God uncaring
denying food as the cabin's wood
flares on like a distracted child
burns on like a witch in the wild,
like a demon's teeth is baring,
and a nightmare shook,
Like a hang up with flaming
Lil Red Riding in the hood.