long ago,
do you remember?
when you used to write me love letters

Sit down in the booth if you like
A clergy man pristine in black and white says
Toil and sweat will make a man of you
But confession will make you better yet
Tell me all your trials and tribulations
To sin is to act without care
Not a person upon our lords Earth
Hasn't done something their ashamed of
But God will relieve your burden
Financial, brutal, cruel and disgraced
The clergy will hear it all
A man or a woman will cry or sigh
When they unravel everything into the wood
Be on your way with gods blessing
My son, daughter or child
He has forgiven you for you sins
Now go off into the night and be good

"I don't care ...
I don't care ..."

Well I would to be honest ...

I'd miss them those long-hairs
with their bongos, flowers &
hula hoops, long skirts, velvet
jackets, bells & sweet scented ****
& smiles & trying just to be happy
& leaving you all behind with your
exploitation & misery & wars & death
& sullen brown slow decay,

I would care,

"if all the hippies
cut of  
all their hair"

I would.

Hendrix lives ... by sweet Jesus yes he does!

When I feel sad, things aren't how they usually are
My favourite songs, sound more like therapy sessions
Taking a walk down the road feels like an eternity
I can swallow my emotions whole
Yet I still manage to be hollow
I can talk to a crowd of people
But I’ll still be lonely
Sing as loud as I can, but
I can still hear everyone's doubts
I close my eyes tight but
I can still see my thoughts painted before me
I punch and kick and scream all I can
But I still can't seem to win this battle
I've been fighting all my life
And I don't think I can win it anytime soon
I keep saying that I will because
I don't think my ears can bear to hear anymore bad news
They've heard every bad thing you could hear in life
From family, from friends, from enemies
But I pretend like I hear rainbows and sunshine
Just so that people think this is what I'm like on the inside
But all I hear are dreary days and blackness
They have know idea what lurks in the back of me
Never judge a book by it's cover

Lost love?
Those memories are like a rusty knife plunged into you.
Deep into your gut.
It twists and turns till you can taste blood.
Until it pulls out only to stab you over and over.
Blood spurting, blurring your vision and your world out.
Such is the pain.
Addicted to it that I keep letting my memories take over me again and again.