I am influenced by the current that the river whispers,
flows back and forth could the sound be more crisp.
The mind recreates the thoughts that reinvent,
deceive me --along with my sinister intent.

Mist- the air sprinkles water broken down,
what's pride when there's hope without?
Children screaming in the projects for drugs,
filled with lonely fear-- without the love of a hug.

When the concrete jungle falls to scattered rocks,
the homily designed to withstand the massive shock.
So it makes sense people praise the great Lord,
but after Church on Sunday has your faith been restored?

Ask yourself-- is life a lie, a legend or a myth?
Was I designed to die? A smart way to make of this.
The evils of our world don't compare to natures gifts,
believe your life will prevail-- and surpass sacred shifts.

Toss-- Your thoughts around that brings you to the brink.
Loss-- your hope and faith drowns in the sink.
Flaws-- your depression. Happiness in a bottle so you drink.
Soft--Your mind absorbs all that you think...
without a shrink-- I'd rather write my thoughts down with ink.