Day 142

Somewhere in the back of
Lies the truth
That eachman searches for.
Confirmation for the greatest conundrums
Of our time.

Seven hundred and thirty six days to go.
The walls are closing in
where can you go when spirituality
Blends with virtual relaity
And country stars get high
While your children cry,
Beg your pardon blago
Our money aint yours.
So give me one good reason
Not to knock your block off.
This is an American Problem
No it’s an international problem.
Chord progressions bounce to and fro
from melancholic highs
to drug indused lows
Sexual desires in your blood
don’t flaunt what you don’t have
Funeral dirge, I call ye with speed.
Say goodnight
Or Godspeed.


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