Poems
Replies
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SnackherBarrell wrote: »Lima bean
In your splean
Make you scream
New perspectives
Senses more keen
The fairly odd parents theme song seems to have changed1 -
A mark,
a brand,
a burn on the skin,
separates us from other young men of our generation where the blind lead the blind through the streets...
but thats just not me...
and O' at the ole water hole where we used to sit and watch the rocks break to sand,
with every wave that came in that ill never forget, but I just can't sit around here and pretend
I'm not a cornered king in a stalemate of chess, and I know that I could be a better man than stands before you...
So I've got to go, the best of luck to you at home... The best of luck to you at home.3 -
Breeticus87 wrote: »A mark,
a brand,
a burn on the skin,
separates us from other young men of our generation where the blind lead the blind through the streets...
but thats just not me...
and O' at the ole water hole where we used to sit and watch the rocks break to sand,
with every wave that came in that ill never forget, but I just can't sit around here and pretend
I'm not a cornered king in a stalemate of chess, and I know that I could be a better man than stands before you...
So I've got to go, the best of luck to you at home... The best of luck to you at home.
Awesome..0 -
You said it was me who made you this way
You said I was your angel
You said you were better when you were with me
And I believed you
You said it was me who made you this way
You said it was all my fault
You said it was all the things I had done
And I believed you
You it was me who made you this way
You said that I was toxic
You said you would never harm a woman
And I believed you
You said it was me who made you this way
You said I am less than worthless
You said you would leave if I told anyone
And I believed you
You said it was me who made you this way
But its not me, it's you
You said many things and still you deny it
I'm done. I don't believe you2 -
You asked me, “Where does the sun set?
Where do the wanderers rest their weary heads?
Where is the spring that brings life to the dead?”
After the gruel of the day is done,
After the well-worn roads are run,
After night falls and the battle is won--
Oh, travel-weary wanderer, come home.
I asked you, “Where do the chains of love hold fast?
Where do the bonds of loyalty last?
Where lie deep fragments of centuries past?”
Over the oceans and across the land,
Through a desert of endless sand,
Burdened by trials and demand--
Oh, travel-weary wanderer, come home.
Strong is the pull of duty and care
When running alone or as a pair
In moments mundane and treasures rare.
When dreams fail and aspirations fall,
When faces fade and you’ve given your all,
When at last beckons the final call,
Oh, life-weary wanderer, come home.2
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