my room? the red sun sets into the horizon,
paints the sky a hue of
golden blue
silhouettes of palm trees dance in the wind that sways them.
traces of a girl laughing in black and white
a man with a flower in his gun
protesting the need to fight
a war that will never be won.
lady in a field of daisies
picking from the capitals crazies
the eye overlooks
desks full of books
zebra-heel pointed shoes
sensing the four-walled blues
trophies pile up
but never add up to much
cause its nothing but a plaque
that will someday be nothing more
than an ancient artifact
buried beaneath the soil
of generations that never steam but boil.
photographs and jewelry
that somehow decode a mystery
of why your sad heart
can no longer play the part
of who they want you to be.
so you open the door
try to explore
--lose yourself more and more
but cannot resist the lure
of that ephemeral hope
as you now see the world through a kaleidoscope.
paints the sky a hue of
golden blue
silhouettes of palm trees dance in the wind that sways them.
traces of a girl laughing in black and white
a man with a flower in his gun
protesting the need to fight
a war that will never be won.
lady in a field of daisies
picking from the capitals crazies
the eye overlooks
desks full of books
zebra-heel pointed shoes
sensing the four-walled blues
trophies pile up
but never add up to much
cause its nothing but a plaque
that will someday be nothing more
than an ancient artifact
buried beaneath the soil
of generations that never steam but boil.
photographs and jewelry
that somehow decode a mystery
of why your sad heart
can no longer play the part
of who they want you to be.
so you open the door
try to explore
--lose yourself more and more
but cannot resist the lure
of that ephemeral hope
as you now see the world through a kaleidoscope.