Wake me up
when it' s all over

When our distance
doesn't matter

Put your hand
on my head

and wake me up
my darling

when it all ends

Dear Diary;
I think I've figured out
why I enjoy staying up so late.
It's 2:44 am
and the world is quiet.
No one expects anything from me
nor do I expect anything from anyone.
It's just me
and the silence.

my hands are full
and my fingers are breaking
for counting my sins
and all of my flaws.
so i apologize
if couldnt hold myself together.

Im quixsotically sick
Pining for my pick of the nostalgic.
Ruined stone upon ruined stone
With their merest mutterings
hold more splendour
Than the present,
So absent I become,
Distracted and whimsical
In my love for all I will never see

A blood red sunset drips over
the black asphalt city skyline
somewhere in a lost part of America

where the dream has
long been dead and buried
and hate and fear rule
the rural streets that are protected
by peace keepers
that practice ******
more often than upholding the law

It has been declared open season
on any crow the color
of a starless night sky
and the dove has become
a symbol of
to protect and serve
their own kind
birds of a feather
that cover for one another

justice is blinded
by the snow covered truth
and the color of corruption
is coincidentally the same
as the color of money

the poor have little choice
but to trade their bones
and their hopes
to the corporations
of the new land
of the free
to be owned by
and controlled by
a minimum wage
that only guarantees
to keep the poor
poor enough
  to work another day
    and another day
      and another day

until there bones are
nothing but powder
and their beds
are nothing but coffins
for the barely living

and life somewhere
in a lost part of America
at the end of everyday
the sky turns red
and the color of blood
runs through the streets
as the doves go along
with their business
of the murdering of crows