False prophecies.

I hoped for sun to do the undone

But it's rays only chose to blind me

I prayed for rain but it never came

So I prayed for hail and lightning

Black and yellow.

In spite of what you may have heard

I'm not dead

Yes in spite of the crushed lungs, chipped teeth and holes in my head

Pause

Reflect

Remember when progression left

A bleeding heart tied to the back of a crow rains blood of a new

Irrational passion passing through

from the end of this tounge to the tips

of my fingers that fly like this

Pause and reflect, remember all that I truly miss

But know when to move on

Move on like this

From a child on the swing crying from a bee-sting

The bastard flew in my ear

I just heard a buzz and smacked my head like that

My brain rang as salt water adorned my face

and that's just one memory that I haven't erased

But the days of sorrow in that place

Can't be an excuse of the trials I now face

So move on

Still got oil in your blood and an engine in your brain

gears for guts and a heart that sustains

Somehow after all these years

So move on

Come on and move on

the dead deer in the lake are gone

so move on

come on and move on

sad crying clown in an iron lung

Hell hath no fury

Like a mind in a hurry

Repeating sermons in tongues

Wearing through the holes in our lungs

Our hearts need more resting

So let it be known

Our thoughts won't be shown

Before ends of friends show their faces

Carcinogens begin again leaving familiar places

If we hand fingers, we'd count our blessings

Show up some time

You and I will chew the rind

Of hospitalized hoaxes we have to offer

As slow as the grind we pursue with such honor

Filled with the bliss we've been investing

It's going to be a long summer.

So it whispered under a listener's breath:

If you kill the Sunshine

You'll always live in night

As cancer grows in blossoming fruit

To dilute the truth as she dies with youth

Leave the leaves to the trees

And the roots to the dirt

Both the fools and the thieves

Know hatchets in stumps hurt

Yet dumb flirts fling in reverse

And blistered cheeks seek payment for pursuits

If a crimson moon grins kindly

Can the tide reflect chartreuse?

Or is there any use in trying to decipher

Troops of letters that have nothing better

Than to be some sort of therapy

During the change of weather