by John Smallshaw
(London, England)
This..
.the coup de grace
The kiss my ass goodbye.
And thus I die to lay among the graves.
Is is not true that Jesus saves?
Am I forever bound to the underground?
Does it really sound..
..as if I care?
So kill me if you will..
..and fill me with a shot of lead.
I have fed too often on the bones..
..of this day and of yesterday..
..and am ready now to lay and sleep.
Let me still my dreams
Spill my pen of ink.
Link into the great unknown.
Loan me a cloak
Let me soak in formaldehyde..
..these are the death that we have spied upon.
The great one comes
I hear the approach..
..the sounds of drums rupture my ears.
I am fearful of those long..long years and yet..
..how quicky I forget the life..and these fears are replaced..
As I race into another dawn.
Where I am reborn.
Once more I die
To wake and see another daybreak
One more blue sky
And wonder why my dreams are always..
..the same.
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