I Am Sorry to Write, This Song Has No Title

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Out from nowhere
Comes a sight of green,
All swirling and toppling each other.
The two of them.
As time ticks away,
Butter sleeps in the puce lawn.
The rouge on the street
Enters the bliss of a whispering wind,
And the sky turns to dementia.
The black of the night
Creeps up slowly
From within the tulip
Of a scented candle.
The microphone machinery
Blasts Kleenexes
Around your paranoid drawing.
The ray of sunlight
Eats the splinter,
And mindless lamps begin to drizzle.
The elongated pine tree
Paints the shattered glass vase
Onto a masterminded mountain.
Squishy harmony is now disputed
And life goes on as it has.
-
Money is a key that unlocks empty paradise.
Paper is a refined source of gallant Englishmen.
Candy is a plastic wormhole that sours the craves.
Words are lies about feelings that are put into motion.
Notice how each of the sentences grow longer with explanations.
Paperclips and tar are pictures of danger and evolution.
Paint is craziness set aside by reality.
Minds are [*I DARE YOU TO FILL IN THE BLANK*]
-
Never dare a dear friend,
For their lives might be hazardous.
Elemental caretaking is nothing but an old sham
According to pessimists, rewriters, comics, and fools.
Live with company
Or be attacked by Frisbees.
Guns are made into toys and sold to relentlessness.
Circles are everywhere
If you dig shallow enough.
Fake flowers are minor entertainment
To a stupor of witticisms.
Notice how there seemingly is no point or resolution to the statements, yet they all are in common.
-
Excuse my language, for I am foreign.
No, I am not insane; I am imperfect, thank you.
See this? This is my humble abode, as you may call it.
I stride with nothing in this box of undetermined falsehoods.
Can you identify it, for I seem incapable of doing so?

Face me with this reminiscent consequence!
Throw it into my dreams and let it unsheathe its minor claws!
I shall grasp it like no other!
I will raid it of everything I can take with my eyes!
But wait a moment, if you please, because the sadness and deep indignation just scares me fathomless.
Excuse my language, for I am foreign.
-
Sing a song
And let it ring
Like freedom did in the 70's.
Arise from the small and pitiless
And sink your teeth into emotion,
For you will find it will please.
-
"I can't concentrate with all the noise! It's everywhere! Mommy! Help me!"
"Elaborate, dear child, and I will make the monsters go away."
"Mommy, they're everywhere! I don't know what to do!"
"Now I can't help you, dear, your life as gone too far short, though I can tell you one thing."
"What?"
"Your innocence has gone with the silence."
"But why?"
"I cannot say for sure, but I believe life can taunt you this way."
"No!!!"





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