One man's journey through life. |
My hands are rested, My palms are starving, If I wasn’t so privileged I’d search through garbage, For a small sense Of independent though it, Wouldn’t make little difference To what I thought and saw, Myself on the street, I thought of the man I want to meet And how we'd talk about nothing Till we're off the street and back on our feet Making our way from hell to earth Our bodies broken and full of dirt, Lucky my mind is still where it should be In my head and not in my pants, Yet when I saw her I knew we had to dance With the jester looking on, he hatched a plan To break my new found love with devils words And imitations of love. Alas my lover was too young The jester confused her with his tongue Till everything she felt for me was numb. She left me and my world was spun I thought my life was over, done. Until my brothers made me have some fun And my life took, flight my mission done. The last concertos sung, my voice has rung, Through the bellows of hell right up to the chelas of the sun, If I am guilty of ignorance, Reward me with violence, If I have ever offended, My apologies are silent. |