DG89

I walked the streets with pompous feel and I was happy on the reel.

And reel was I, and that’s no lie, and it’s my only alibi,

As we are never satisfied, I aim to please, that’s how I learn. That’s how every story’s born,

That’s how dream becomes your path, it’s extra crispy for empaths, the driven wrath of being right.

Denied the option, that it does to make a point on the pass.

And there are always other ways. Sometimes you see that crime, it pays.

Sometimes you bask in mid-day rays.

Sometimes you’re losing track of days, or maybe it’s a paraphrase.

Or maybe it’s a state of mind, or everything is just sideways.

Time doesn’t heal. Amnesia does. And do you keep all that you kill?

Despite your judgement, brains, and will, you’re lost among the good and ill.

Attempt to chill, but setting bombs, remember when you were on reel and everything was per your will?

Nobody asking ‘what’s the deal? ‘ Just being you, king of the hill. Chameleon on summer break.

Just keep it up, and never break. You only reap all that you made. And that you make, just as of late, you tend to follow a new rate, as if it’s chosen as your fate.

You are the life you want to lead. With every breath and every bid, with every deed and every creed, with every torn tumbleweed,

With every smile, as agreed, abstaining from the ones in need, but choosing who’s enslaved or freed, and when it’s time to drink some mead.

And when the go light is lit.

And you are caught in your own shit.