Who gives the morning sun
To light a million smiles?
Who writes the suites of passion
To turn joy from a peasant’s cry?
Who blames himself
When doubts deafen the soul,
And overcome sadness
To escape from what people mould?
Dawn, sweat and dusk,
All ways lead to one
That an end is must
For those under the same sun.
Thunder, lighting, tremors and rain
A silent losing battle inside my brain
No one seem to understand quite
The isolation and end that I desire
Contempt and grin behind their eyes
While I succumb to their laugh and whine
A secret memorabilia of an old friend
The Darkness in me never seems to end
Wish that I could run away from it all
find shelter under an angel’s breath
Question my courage and I will not refuse
to answer your crimes in hell’s due
What awaits there shouldn’t bother me now
Because I know good people end up how
No more Mr. Nice Guy to you
I have always found joy in solitude
I hare crimes, Lord!
I am a beggar of justice
And if I’d overdone my pleads
Believe me when I have over done my deeds.
Gentle commotion in my brain
Tearful extravaganza down the lane
Hearing things believed to be true
Finding naught left me mute
Cold showers and comfy lies
My company through the night
Wondering where I will end up was my thought
At first I seemed to be on course
Sore eyes, red and bloat,
Don’t mind when I shut the door
Imagine eventual calamity disengage
I stumble on place and panic and shame
Of all the things I wish not my friend
Gentle commotion never seems to end