Hear
to the puffed out heroes in the absence of a moral law
Concerning
someone else merely hears a cry
Young
day I won’t come a ransom like everyone else,
I
never was the kind of girl to buy heaven in a store
Or
Religion going door to door
Selling
promises- for all you had and more
You
came you walked and we went
Calling
for Bootlegged promises living in Empty conversations
I
haven’t got a will falling
in a world of free floating anxiety
Swirling
and swishing as they go 50 words more I
won’t know.
No comments:
Post a Comment