There must be someway out of here
   said the patient to the shrink.
   I can write a script for ******
   that might help you think.
   Give me your magic I said
   maybe I'll find another door.
   Don't be in such a hurry
   just be grateful for the floor.
   I'll need to see you often
   you're in a fragile mind.
   I'll write your script forever
   as long as you stay blind.

Spacious skies
    beautiful eyes
    you soothe the beast
    afterward the feast
    paleface took the bait
    red man chose his fate
    better never than late
    death served on a plate
    we set up shop here
    moved teepees there
    cleared the fields
    for lovely yields
    nothing else cares
    corpse never swears
    buy a black slave
    pick cotton and save
    your precious crop
    and blood they drop
    each day something new
    my open minded view
    set them free
    lost as they can be
    40 acres and a mule
    offered to a fool.

    Chicago. Baltimore.
    Jungles in city's
    in deadly playpens
    no hope. Deal dope
    die young a hero
    all you left was zero.

There's a stranger in my heart
  who won't let me get to know him.
  I learned he doesn't trust love.
  It broke his heart on a whim.
  He travels back streets alone
  sleeps under stars full of lies
  of lovers for money by the hour.
  Love's out of my reach 'til he dies.
  Then we'll find a place for our love
  with no doubt. A bed for love again.

I'm 72 and I'm not you.
Now I know I'm not me.
I'm just an afterthought
created with no purpose.
I'm a troubadour to amuse
the royal court confuse
the drunk King his *****
leaves him wanting more.
I write his sordid story
lies about false glory.
We watch as the stars
all fall from the sky
and we smell hell and
finally all just die.

The march of the chardonnay,
    a battalion of wine boxes at
    attention in formation against
    my bedroom wall ready for war.
    I'm captain. Music is crashing.
    Empty boxes marching on parade.

I lead them with my baton.
   My whole crazy orchestra
   plays frenzied on the sun.
   I hum in ****** nirvana.

The war was won the men came home
   broken but ready to fill the cradles
   and cry on the shoulders that matter
   and smell of the remembered perfume.
   They spent the venom into wombs to
   bring buddies back from ugly deaths.