Wednesday, 10 December 2008

hopefuly this dream will not turn sour

My eyes are as moist as dust
And this dead euphoric energy
Will make my temples burst
I got a feeling in my gut like getting older
Growing colder and becoming fatter
Going nowhere
Like a toy with only one functioning leg
I limp around the same track
Stalked by a hungry malevolent cleg

My ambitions float carelessly into dreams
Those are forgotten like a fascist regime
Only to be picked up by descendants of mine
Prepared for the virtue but not for the time

A dream turned sour
A boy turned old
A cult moral turned law
A baby turned w----

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