sickly rip me from this diluted tree of melted charm
take me back to those barley filled days
and place me with your little fingers back upon that farm
a time when there was no such thing as firearm
or harm
a time when I was filled with scars of loyal work streched forth for the world to see
down my arms
I time when we didnt hurt our brothers
a time when we went to ours mother for the answer
a time when our ancestors and relatives did not pass this life to live in cancer
a time when the pigs where not the bachlors
a time when a woman was not a cheater
a time when the human was not the actor
and the actors and artists human
these minds
have come to crease the internal of a superficial disaster
that only the right heads can master

I was thinking of our situation on this one night I was plastered
and woke up the next morning after
with the bitter potion still pumping through my combusted liver
and remebered last night with its bright lights and rich champagne
and started to shiver
and how I would have loved to celeberate any occasion down
by a white river
filled with stones and fish of similar nature
a fire and love that spread out through the achres
flowers worn by the women and men in theyre hair for praise
to our universe
and in our very own souls we would immerse
and our eyes and hearts would burst
and the only spell that would be casted upon us is mother natures tender curse