Lono

Meddling with blue vibrations
A lighter and a bowl
His eyes locked on consolation
But his heart a cold stone

Don’t you see the worry
Scratching at his core
It paints him blind and colorless
His fingers slip a little more

He built a house around his doubt
Without windows or a door
He’s much to small to climb out
So he sinks into the floor

To nourish the dirt with his decay
Turn his agony to thorns
A house will crumble in its place
And through dust, a new is born