Malfunctioning Rhyme Scheme, But Still Pressing Through

in homage to all those who struggle to keep the mood steady. peace to you, friend.

parade-clean-up

 

I can feel it coming the cycle full circle

Too tired for running through the Dark again

My body too beat, my soul too bruised

My mind’s been raped, my love’s  gone unused

 

I am stuck in wonder of the other side

Just beyond the curtain I now watch my hand slide

Will I pull it back white? Will I pull it back clean?

Will I live to see tomorrow? That of course remains to be seen

 

For now, I’ll find the moment to confront that which is near

With eyes wide open within this house of mirrors

Though the halls be dark and dirty I can still see the smudges

Upon the lips of masquerading judges.

 

Let the games begin! Set the wild beasts free!

Un-muzzle their teeth, give ‘em what they came to see

A circus! A circus with clowns galore

In strait jackets and bell bottoms, red ribbons on the floor

 

Wild eyed ghosts with painted white faces

Brooms in hands, sweeping away the traces

Of all the parades that have shit through here

Elephants with bells, monkey cymbals ringing in my ears

 

Seventy – Six trombones from the Hit Parade keeps running through my mind

It’s the only line I know but the melody I can find

It’s funny the things we remember when Death crashes on the pew

Just to remind us that he always follows through.

 

I can feel it coming the cycle full circle

Too tired for running through the Dark again

My body too beat, my soul too bruised

My mind’s been raped, my love has gone unused

 

I am stuck in wonder of the other side

Just beyond the curtain I now watch my hand slide

Will I pull it back white? Will I pull it back clean?

Will I live to see tomorrow? That of course remains to be seen

 

For now, I’ll find the moment to confront that which is near

With eyes wide open within this house of mirrors

Though the halls be dark and dirty I can still see the smudges

Upon the lips of masquerading judges.

 

Let the games begin! Set the wild beasts free!

Un-muzzle their teeth, give ‘em what they came to see

A circus! A circus with clowns galore

In strait jackets and bell bottoms, red ribbons on the floor

 

Wild eyed ghosts with painted white faces

Brooms in hands, sweeping away the traces

Of all the parades that have shit through here

Elephants with bells, monkey cymbals ringing in my ears

 

Seventy – Six trombones from the Hit Parade keeps running through my mind

It’s the only line I know but the melody I can find

It’s funny the things we remember when Death crashes on the pew

Just to remind us that he always follows through.

 

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