The glasses can’t hide
Lights inside
The eldest of elders
Will not stand alone
Because we will trudge on
Through stormy zebras

Roses smell so rosy
But thorns are forged in gloom
Climaxing-
The sun shines
The birthday of the moon

The story has yet to be unraveled
With thousands of years
And shmancy castles
With mounds of bulls and bears
Wounds lay still
And floppy brooms fly
To sin

The children are calling
Yet to be made
Potential is brewing
In flames that wait:
For waiters to burn
For frosting on cake
While shiny snakes die just to hate

Because the truth is three doors down
And the bullets rule the town
The clock says stop
While mountains topple
Squishy seats with reckless waffles