She can take you to nirvana
She can make a life worth living
She can show you all the pleasures
But she’s taking and not giving
For she’ll wake you in the morning
Rend the flesh from off the bone
She will tear your heart to pieces
She will leave you all alone
Then regaining all your senses
In the morning light you shiver
As you wade into the waters
Of some cold and icy river
And the current takes you down
And your drowning in you sorrow
But you fight to reach the surface

Black of yew, birds hide,
where poisonous berries, red,
drop on grey graves.

Silent stones, moss draped,
pale green and bleached by time.
The air aware, a latent air, expectant,
nothing stirs.

Below our bones, they sleep,
they cannot weep.
Souls haunt them yet,
expressed in quiet unspoken melody,
nature's own sweet breath.

Of dreams, regrets,
perhaps of happiness,
they weave new life
into the myths of man.

Wayne and I are observers
quite aware of all that we see,

one might say we're the founding fathers
of the Third Eye detective agency.

I'm seriously not boasting
it just may be the saddest fact,

and neither of us are exaggerating
these idiots really don't know how to act!

There hasn't been a "fleeting moment",
or a "fraction of a while" that's gone by;

where someone during the day's movement
hasn't taken something, and turned to lie!

On the walls
On the cars
On the bricks
On the trucks
And on the trains
You invade
In imagination
You participate
Making a summary of society
With retrospective theory
Achieving freedom with notoriety
Off the walls of normality
Into colorful reality
Making serendipity of what was once a blank canvas
On the walls
You create
On the minds
You invade
And it could not have been more beautiful.