I'm surrounded by words and saw the demise of God's meaning
Inane cases of Sunday afternoon
These are how my worlds are
I walk into spirits of a material living
I'm unsure whether I'm free from these words or the necessities of begging
I feel lamentable and slide right into my depressiveness
Oppress the oppressor, the ringing bell of ****** progress
I haven't finished my pills, either way, being near the whanging streets in limerick streets
Forlorn and fraught with medication and the lack of a noisome drug that has no surmise
Emetics accompany the frequent visits to the blue halls of hallucination, confusing and bright
Read Harriet stone, and bleached winter ****** on nature's haze
When will the sky clear and when I see the light?
I know it's you I'm looking at all this time, I'm a child of a lost spirit
It dwells on me like a blue moon that barely ever comes
A moon hovers us, like a friend
The moon pulls us a bit to close, asking us to fly kites
There was once a time when well-lit streetlights held the light of prostitution and deafening gun chase
We controlled the deranged inveterates, even accused the government and the thrills of the chemicals
But, we never came back from that, now, I cannot hold myself with veracity or cheap freewill
I hope it ends wilting freely, ****** on the west side near the waters
Love waits
On the ****** on the west end, disguised in a leader's meandering gait
