Inside these four walls all dark and dreary

Eyes wide open I stare into the window and see things clearly

The tree, the seed, the soil, the cycle, and the parables of life

The living in the dead the contrast of black and white

It is appointed unto man once to die ,I guess, we will all have our turn

But that is yet to come I still am in this room with lessons yet to learn

So I tune into the television to drown out these voices

But in subliminal messages they are influencing my choices

The time has cause the restraint on evil to nearly even not exist,

Things broadcasted these days are much worse than the moving of Elvis’s hips

The sorcery, witchcraft and the killing are not without meaning

They seem to be fantasized, but see the pattern, it is not just some thing they are dreaming

It portrays a likeness of the events to come or a mocking of the creator

It is in theatrical forms to desensitize the traitors

Those that loved the world those that sought its fame

Those that failed to seek the lord and to repent and be forever changed

But that is not the only waves that the devil does control our emotions

Turn on the music and feel the sway of lust’s pure devotions

Nod your head and move your hips and put your lighters in the air

The highest angel fell from heights that we as men can not compare

BUT we wont stop there to try and compare the waves of corruption,

There is obviously more than the tech world that will bring sudden destruction

The mind of the world is leading even you,

Unless you are born again, set apart, filled with the spirit, and walking in the truth

“But how does he move me?, you may ask, I am surely going to see the devil!

In any other person you may see him but you must see him on a personal level.

Inside the looking glass there stands a fool,

So conceited in his heart that he thinks he is the exception to the rule.

His feelings have left him convinced of his pure devotion

Never knowing that the blood flowing in him is brewing the devils potion

He was the wind that blew your mothers eye in your fathers direction

The lust that led them to your very own conception

He was the reason your father drank and your mother was a whore

He was the one who slipped in at night as you hid begging please no more

He was the pain the very lack that each and every soul feels

He is the author and finisher of all that is corrupt he is the thief that kills

Your story may be a bore not as full of beauty quite like these

You may be vexed in mediocracy and living the American dream.

Oh this here is dangerous all you good old boys and girls

Who drink on the weekend and yet darken the church doors.

A drunk indeed can walk into a church and can be delivered from that life

But once he receives salvation he will not be seen mingling under those oh neon lights

But as I get off the soap box and get to the point

The hurt the desire the want for love will lead you to want to smoke a joint

Emotional, osmosis , hypnosis, psychosis

We are slanting into the another turning point on this roller coaster

The utopia of the world that the addict does make

How is this poison going help me, if it takes truth and reality away

Weed ecstasy meth or heroine served in a needle and spoon

Pain killers or meds prescribed by doctors who treat those in padded rooms

Now the latter can confuse you for this witch doctor had forgotten his broom

He walked right the temple and said its ok cause I am licensed to give it to you

I chuckle at another pet peeve of my own,

The world surely wants to medicate this girl but I will medicate all alone