I want to cry for my lost dreams.
That house made of stone and glass
with all wood inside the fame
and fortune I never gained,
the way my heart has been maimed
my life tamed and bought at the corner store.
Dreams estranged
caught up in the buzz of busy bees
living day to day in a maze
on a pension fund
Money I earned, not charity
driving safe in the slow zone.
No airs or golden chalices,
standardized morphing of reality
leave me to blaze on a hot day
with no underwear.
I fear for the living dead.
Live in my head
Less than half my dreams
Less than half my dreams
never come to fruition
because I’m not Annie Malone,
neither is he
change your tone
don't use your phone
while we're having this conversation
I want to be a milliner
Tired of infighting,
heart a siren, beats with desire
Set the sky on fire, bring souls out of mire
Stir the fires of love
Ignore the jive of each haze,
the latest craze
Always some new malaise
Live like lost
In a moon phase
Do my best to stay alive and thrive
