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When the fire wept
And i stand here all alone
Remembering those days when my sprirs ran free in the jungle.
Where the only thing gruesome was the death of our sun and the birth of my moon.
When red was red and not gray.
When the need for burning ash wasn't aborbed by my wrists
And the specs of velvet red rivers did not dirty the soil.
When the fire didn't weep and the stars didn't fall.
When the end of a tunnel did not reveal a labyrinth.
Where the crows leave to never come back, for they have found miles of terrain and leaves of grass.
The time when my pocket had a hole thay left a trail behind.
That god awful time where happiness ruled and my neck was tied to a tree.
Now i am free and i look not for happiness but for wisdom.
© Arthur Normal
Remembering those days when my sprirs ran free in the jungle.
Where the only thing gruesome was the death of our sun and the birth of my moon.
When red was red and not gray.
When the need for burning ash wasn't aborbed by my wrists
And the specs of velvet red rivers did not dirty the soil.
When the fire didn't weep and the stars didn't fall.
When the end of a tunnel did not reveal a labyrinth.
Where the crows leave to never come back, for they have found miles of terrain and leaves of grass.
The time when my pocket had a hole thay left a trail behind.
That god awful time where happiness ruled and my neck was tied to a tree.
Now i am free and i look not for happiness but for wisdom.
© Arthur Normal
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