RMC

Feeling good like a good boy should.
I want to energize and devise what I could
before I die and reach the breech of woods
dark and stark gloom is misunderstood.

I want a discovery made in the glades
of the witchy women who knew me well.
I stay in the shade I want no shine my way
for there are no glowing stories to tell.

My hell is all I can tell to try to break a spell
that fell the trees that hide me that I smoke.
Tell one another I was happy in stories tell
life for me was insane but I overcame and I spoke.

Truth is an illusion of delusions,
I want your breath and fusion
and my arms and hands use them
to run rum for fun in a land of confusion.

Take a shot of liquor,
drink wine serve yourself to get lit quicker
and take your lighter let it flicker
to light fumes to relieve the stress thicker.

Mother was a kind assured hand
that taught me a sturdy hand of command
where I learned to defend where I stand,
I’m old fashioned and want to be grand.

I need to be at ease in my head
I need to reach you in your head
all is alive and possible we are not dead;
lets get what we need to be fed.

Fed that knowledge that life is short
I strive to be alive no strife no court
could suspend the end I seek support
to be me and seek ease more.