Nothing can explain to me how shallow my pursuit has become
These little drops of innocence don’t break my heart
They tear away my idle hours in bright light fashion
They slit my throat while I stand idle gurgling in the clear air
And caress my weak sin with fabricated desire of adolescence
Here is where I float on, I laugh at distinction
That hands my soldiered frame a paper napkin
Attempting to regulate my copulating heart
Distracted in all it’s splendid gallantry by guns and money
Deeply seating my cold ways into the arms of anarchy
Leading astray the happy holidayers into darkened alleys
Filled with a sulk and a happy hour drink umbrella
Don’t crash my mission statement
Laying there idle in the parking lot
Affix the direction, ignite the heart!
Onward, my god man, onward to the stars
Let it be there and beyond, let it be the future!