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 answers 'til yours is found,
The others watch and frown as you toss her frailness to the ground.
Your answer is no longer then, but now,
If you believe that kind of story, read but beat on the dead in the quarry of your home town.
I believe in the keys that are given by the trees of the Lebanese,
Never too trusting to throw away what others are rushing.
A Message From Time...Open mouths spill little towns
Speaking rotten chords with broken sounds
Float through crimson skies on how's and why's
Conjure ancient secrets to keep them wise
A little fox with little button eyes
Will sit you down and tell you stories and lies
A squat tree stump will be a perfect spot
To sit and listen as the fever's taught
A word or two spun from lighted string
With a pinch of love and everything
Fastened round an old oak tree
And thrown into the turning sea
Cast away only to be found again
At his place in the forest just in time for time to begin
The world will grow
And the world will sew
The hardships of life in his barks will show
Permanently written across his bough
A message sent from then to now
n'oubliez vous pasButtoned down pea coats on a swarming winter's night
Don't forget my hand in yours, held in tight
Sing a slow song to keep the shadows away
They'll ruin something special in every word you say
Let me hold your breath as your eyes fade to grey
While you toil with spools of bright coloured lights
To distract my mind from what's tied to our kite
My love is strung on fast as I start to lose sight
And I whisper a wish for wishful thinking's sake
That my heart is enough for someone to want to take
And then I whistle your life back into your lungs
As we start back walking, singing our slow songs
RegaloLinen never so appealing in the wind,
Lifts a heart to a beating point of entry.
Pulse into lucidity, twist that sin into your friend
Open those liquid eyes and set your offer free.
Shake his choices when your voice is shaking and kind,
And keep him closer when he knows her future's course is blind.
Hold his holy heartbeat with words that make it skip,
But believe beyond blue lips and that unopened gift.
Carry it into a clouded vision within a vivid visage,
Don't ever release the trust that held it's message.
The protective bits of you are gone and death is
Mr. WhoYoung mister Jenkins spilt his brazen soul to me. His story would make a horrible, bloody B-Movie. He's a cynic and a critic of his movie and he's in it. He tears himself down again with these shadows of happiness and friends. He told me that he's alive, but I told him that it was all a lie. I'll help him lay the silver sheets on his rotten bed, just don't expect me to stay after he's fled. Please, mister Jenkins, explain why you have these thoughts on your brain, tell me the name of the butchering demon you can't tame. One last time I'll hold you tonight, just promise to put down that shiny knife. O God, the fire licks at my face from your broken limbs as you shake. I scream not for my life, but yours as you pick your crumbled body off the floor. Pops and cracks as your motions push your brown bones back. I didn't want this for you, sir, but I didn't do it for you, it's all for her. A flash of ear-splitting silence and white accompany this moment tonight. Mister Jenkins, don't get up