Roger Calamity From Old...How high could you fly if you never asked why?Never leave the earth your heart is doomed to the dirt.Think about the stars and their twinkling of their eyes,It's a message from time about how quickly it flies.A rabbit in a cornfield asks about how your head feels,Not so good, Mr. Rabbit, There's this light but I can't seem to grab it.Reach out with your love and take it all with your lungs,A light from the moon once stolen by the lonely raccoon.Rainbows of light colour your eyes, with a painter's knife hold fast and make ties.Do you think about what you've seen, or that spark that your heart felt?Will it ever be enough, ca
Don't Wake Up Or Your...The old crow that jumped the gun to be the first before the sunHeld no respect for the younger ones among his dialectHis sorry claim was to be staked but his vigil hand they couldn't shakeHe had a growing tremble of what the council would soon assembleA rusted metal voice pleaded with his brothers to sway their weighted choiceBut no illumination of a fleeting glance, no hint at the slightest chanceOld crow's words reverberated and bounced back never even contemplatedHis turpentine wings showered the trees with the cries for help his pleasNo return was heard, nothing from cricket or birdAn unraveling crow of yarn and seedling
Your Future SutureRest uneasy for we are with you,A simple secret for the way we move.A sweeping moment from rough to smooth,Your life is over, your heart will lose.Keep one eye open for that shining light,In the dark, cause we own the fucking night.Trust for mercy to not be found,Your lust and shallow blood will coat the ground.Keep in mind what you did to me,A good enough reason for what you see.You said you'd never leave,I guess promises don't mean shit to thieves.I remember the flavour of your skin,Even better with a hint of revenge.I hope you're ready,For the end.
Fibonacci's Got Nothing On MeSitting in her pocket was the locket that he left,Repeating his last words before he parted nest,"Wait for me at the end of the pier,"As the sun comes down I'll return by the year."Each day that she waited at the end of the plank,Was her catalyst for the ends of which she'd think,And the tomb in which she'd lay them rest,It had been too long since his last caress.So she set her careful plan down in stone,With a helping hand while he wasn't home.Gathered her feathered dreams from the abandoned market,Put them with his emptied promises in the little golden locket,Found the oldest bottle of brandy-wine and popped it,The
A Lesson That's Taught...If your dream is but the thread for the seam,A means to believe in what needs to be seen,Celebrate your new found theme with a lust for the Beetle King.Adorn your skin with the flashing greed of all the men,Wishing to know you, but never befriend.Yours is the seed of the free roaming cattle feed,A labour more sweet than any of her finest tweed,Don't achieve to kneed your dough into the flow of the scene of the summer's eve,Prepare your deed to be traded for more than a shining key in the lock of a door.A man ignored taught how an open door like yours could be used for so much more.Pick a flower off the ground and pluck her
A Message From Time...Open mouths spill little townsSpeaking rotten chords with broken soundsFloat through crimson skies on how's and why'sConjure ancient secrets to keep them wiseA little fox with little button eyesWill sit you down and tell you stories and liesA squat tree stump will be a perfect spotTo sit and listen as the fever's taughtA word or two spun from lighted stringWith a pinch of love and everythingFastened round an old oak treeAnd thrown into the turning seaCast away only to be found againAt his place in the forest just in time for time to beginThe world will growAnd the world will sewThe hardships of life in his bark
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