Run Like Thee (day 641)

Listen locked up troubadour
I’ve had just about enough from you
Flat tones with hardly any decibel
What part of the unwritten story
Didn’t you read?
Weren’t you just a little bit stunned
When the little Draculas
Began roaming these cliffs
On the cold nights
The windy nights
Where out in the distances
Witches are heard
Cooking up their recipe
Madness with glee
Forever is the preciousness
Longing is the game
Put forth a valiant effort
And you shall not run like thee
You see
Troubadours and lab technicians
All united; a singular cause
Pulled into the parking lot
Brushed away the wild sea
Battled the neckerswaps
And unscrewed the top
Crossed the great yellow barrier
By walking in through that door
The market was ahead of them
It awaited there lovely wallets
Where they stared in all it’s preciousness
In glitter and in shine
And you shall not run like thee
You see
Pulling away from the parking lots
Mad hatters and tea sets
Blinded by ammunition
The Troubadour and his silent friend
Set out for sea
Bleeding through darkness
Into night
Peddling for fire starter
Drinking whiskey for the cold
Laughing at all glorious things
As wheels of giant steel spun
You shall not run like thee
You see
Past moons and past reefs
The cold sea lay in splashing
Madness settled over mortals
Hell welcomed in
Demons and rat infested decks
Lay crawling amongst eyes of stranded
Bitterly washing away stains
Laid down by the blood of another man
Coveting distant targets
Booty unheard of, unfound
And you shall not run like thee
You see
Reaching the distant lands
With the devil at their backs
Reeling from sheer horror
Exotic bazaars and neon lights
Collector man watched his pray
As the Troubadour and his friends
Circled the shore
Marching two by two
Their prize lay in the hands of a king
Bloodshed played over widowers
Death lay the victim asleep
Washed over with a thin black veil
With a light shower of diamonds
The King was laid below
And you shall not run like thee
For thee has run too long
Over distant mountain tops
Into far off valleys
Soaring across blue skies
Crumbling foreign castles to their demise
Fair haired spoils
Fruits of hard labour
You see
You shall not run like thee
Black masks and pony tales
Sidekicks and sport goggles
Ripped jeans and too good hats
Curly hair and bending knees
Diamonds in these eyes you see
It is over for you thin man
I see you standing there
Troubadour in your madness
You shall not run like thee

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

2 × five =