Four-Plex

This cradle of filth, rocking not so gently

Dirty little heap of fools gold

"Hold on tight", my soul sister says

Her brother, she helped convince me, was my man

He took a detour into the dead of night just recently

Right after a day together that was almost complete bliss

Purity that everything around us just to make us miss out on

He was so beautiful and bountiful and branded upon my soul

I was just smitten

Bitten by some selfish mortal who covets her own brood

Then, suddenly burdened

Burned by attitude

Death still lingers here upon my mantle

Here and there and back three times

Wind chimes in the shapes of angels dancing through the lowest part of the skies

Wind blowing mulberry bushes into extremes

My dreams have been very few lately

Crazily enhanced by the past

The souls of all of the deceased children, I have lifted and have freed

Apollo's Creed practiced across the globe

Heroin junkies

with artistic endeavors

make graffiti that speckles my windows through panes of senseless denial

Trials

Tribulations

Nations filled with wrath articulating their way along the pathways to righteousness

Needles, exchanged

Madhouse, deranged

All of the racket embodied deep within the sands of time

Drinking in the broken silence

Violence, spat out sheepishly by a jealous little swine

Staring down the dregs that intertwine throughout her miserable existence

We are stuck here in this four plex

We see nothing but her silly , fake little grin

But, we are stronger men than ever this time

See y'all later, we outta here!

6/23/2011