The Musings of a Mad Man
Strident this mind of mine,
Enough naive still, to
Seek yonder what wonderments
Reside in radical signs.
These musings of madness
Asleep, in pale beige cold
To awaken only at threatening displace
From illusions of misty roles
That bind not by chance this inky race.
From steaming brain in a pan,
A respite from those wicked clocks,
The tic toc's wretched song moans
As you contemplate intricacies of locks
And count the years in ancient stones.
Revels in pains of gladness
At times he misses the sinking sun,
Its distance as through bars of orion.
Oh, that he were a rainbow child,
Yet, born mad 'neath mystic cowl.
Embracing its beauty the thrill
Toot natural this wicked span,
Led by a bland Texas man.
Show us your ire if you can
And pour-out tears in mother's hand.
Of empty hearts and malicious wills.
Race blinds so too few see
That human is enough to be free.
Talk to a man and a tree,
We're the same, ask the flea.
Murdered with perfect skill
Children laugh and play together
Happy in any kind of weather,
And hate enters their heart never.
If only this could last forever!
This open mind a perfect steal
He�s just a fool, a talking head,
Speaking seductively to the dead
And those monsters under bed,
To catch a ghost before they've fled.
As the mirror reflects what you kill,
Musings of madness catch a chill,
Wrapped in the warmth of the ill,
Of flights where the states pay the bill
For madmen looking towards the hills.
Be happy your fate is sealed.