Untitiled #9

Bright light beams like bliss beads
dolmation berry ballads fall lunar bound from apple trees
Grace like melodies that give us wings that we dont know what to do with
But I got the wings
You got the wings
So lets try our damndest not to loose this.
Winters catatonic clarion call iconoclast has given in to slightly sweeter surroundings
The north western song birds are singing loudly "Life is funny sometimes"
A gospel even christ might get behiend if the static king can get off the wine
Teenage catholic want-to-be's drink till their preacher drinks till their savior drinks till their god drinks till the public thinks
and forgets again
A life time of commercial breaks for a television generation who breaks for picket line princes and clever bumper stickers but dont do NOTHIN'.
Swinging mood bipolar color scheme shifting like a blue light breeze in the red light district reality of suburban waste and wasted time twists into a sunnier disposition.
A brunette gypsy boy faking it with chemicals and a cynical sarcasm finds heaven in stage light like opiates fake orgasms.
The enlightend nomadic cab driver finds himself  within his metacognitive unconciousness with a devil on his sholder anda monkey on his back he just cant shake off.
Orange cowboys fall off the horse, but dont get back on.
Soft hearted angels caught in black hair finally spit themselves out of their vacant homes in my head
And the sunlights on my back
for what seems like the fist time, the final time and the only time.
Because after all,
Thats all we got.