The deliberate 'Mental' abash,
against I am of every seen.
The lead to what has come to be,
offends the 'Rite' of liberty.
The product of 'An Affair'
I state,
"I know my paternal wealth, I am the spare"
Deeply seated,
I ride what's coarse,
for in this venue,
I ride with Force!!!
The more delivered,
the worse the case,
with each new look,
I crave it's source.
The Hunt?,
a preyed upon more.
Hide & Seek,
a dungeons 'Keep'
out came ugly and it is mean.
To only lead?,
the honesty of what?,
that abuse is real and I don't love?
The real appearance,
of whom?,
won't run.
Holding a hand,
hearing the sound,
a beating heart,
the impossible stands.
Will connection brake this rage,
proves to be not up to me,
for it is left to whom does use,
then turns from,
the source for fun.
So declare your words dear Sir Dark Lord,
the connection with your Self is torn,
the mirrored reflection of your more,
announces that your pain is scorn.
'cause if you Tour the World 'round,
you'll just be turned away with bound,
becoming the next chored display,
of what does never end this 'Play'.
Again I say there is a place,
where laughter's buried,
and grave in state.
So Peace in Concerts of what is real,
will simply be a trip,
surreal!!
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