Smoking...
Drenched in rain, watching your old cuts,
thinking of your insane
Musing over the dream about your father’s
death,
Craving over segregation you chose, but
it was right? Wasn't it?
It was! But does that makes you happy? Does
it? No!
Smoke up some more...
Chase pragmatism, right is the way, all
alone you battle
For right you will fight, scared that
alone you will die
But right was the way, wasn't it? You are
tough and brave and aged and careful? Aren’t you?
You are! But is that permanent? Is it simple
to encounter people, as it is lose? No!
Drag and hold up smoke in the chest...
Listening pearl jam, the words pierce
through your every vein, but all you feel is void between the chests
You search every pocket, every road,
every green, every wood, every black, every rain, every sky, every fire to unearth
permanence,
But do you find it? Momentary is life
then how will thou find it?
You will! But undying: is love; do you
even have a piece of it? No!
Cough and smoke and defeat sanity...
No Blasphemy can stop you, you do what
you do, and you devotedly face what you do,
Fight with millions for what is right,
but can’t sleep at night,
Because all you see is tattoo of
questions in your hand, about what is precise, do you know what is right?
You do, don’t you? Yes you do! But those
questions always take a piece of your soul with them, don’t they?
They do! But you won’t change, you can’t
change, you don’t want to change, will you? Can you? Want to? No!
Throws the cigarette butt!
