my lai

Dragon of death breathes over the village
Confusion cringing in fear of it’s God
Army of ghosts assemble in path of doom
Frightened by a flag of anger as they squirm
Panicked families under the heels of misfortune
Clouds rain fire across the jungle acid pathways
The red moon sniffles as it bleeds tears of sorrow
Domination spreads like a cancerous growth
Babes no longer sent to march into Toyland
Machine guns spitting shame across the oceans
Shocking the world with one cruel heartless deed
The weight of massacre befallen all of humanity
Anger and shame have defeated their innocence
Women and children slaughtered in claws of war
Not healthy for children and other living things
Cancel war and subscribe to peace
Before its too late

What’s Happened To Time? (Inspired by The Wedding Of Riversong)


The clock it never even ticks anymore
Something bad has happened to time
Just what exactly do I mean by that
Does time belong to you or is time mine

Please explain to me in terms more clear
If its gone has someone committed a crime
Cause no one seems to have enough anymore
What in the Hell has happened to time

Killing time had a thrilling time
Time to make a change
On time in time
Times been re-arranged
What if I’m behind time
Where can I find time
Can’t even define time
A time for us
Someday there’ll be a time for us
Our time has come
Time has come today
One time sometime any time will do
Right here right now I think your time is through
Time heals time steals time a for all good men
Make time take time its time to start again
Been here and gone
But time goes on
Time is on my side
Have no time to bide
No time -go time -hurry up its show time
Your time my time I think its about high time
To give the time of day
Time is slipping away
Time has come today
It’s the right time to stitch time and save nine so sublime
Its about time
The right time
Is nighttime
But what is the time?

Does anybody really no what time it is?
Does anybody care?
Time’s up
We out



This town has had it’s blood removed
Unforgiving city without a heart
Scoffing me disdainfully
Hurting me so painfully
This ain’t no city of Angels
This city ain’t got no heart
Or maybe it’s me

Cold town in a cold state
Cold state of mind without a heart
Laughing at me so damn sarcastic
Nothing but silicone and plastic
This ain’t no city to live in
This city ain’t no place to stay
Or maybe it’s me

It’s like I’ve had my soul ripped out
This place has made me heartless
Walking down the streets of the city
Block to block there ain’t no pity
I don’t have no place to go
Town that brings me down so low
Or maybe it‘s ….
No, it’s this city
I’m out

A Goat By Any Other Name (by Ian Hilltop)


A Tale by J.T. Hilltop’s Son

Growing up in the 90’s was quite a challenge. I mean the generation before had it so easy, Rock concerts every weekend, smoking weed wherever they wanted, and the only threat they got from their parents was a haircut. I’ve been told by my old man that my Grandpa used to chase him around with scissors. I mean shit dude, I can’t get away with half the shit my Pops did. He told me he used to roll joints during study hall but I can’t even carry rolling papers anywhere near school. Which brings me to my first brush with the law and the night my Dad had to come pick me up at the police station. Funny thing is my old man looks more like a criminal than I do. Oh sure my pink Mohawk looked rad and bad and all but my Dad used to be a biker outlaw. Well maybe not an outlaw biker exactly but he was a hippie tree hugging Harley owner and he still looks the same, just like a fossilized version. He’s still got a ponytail but not much on the top so he covers it with a bandana and he’s an ultra liberal peacenik. My step Mom on the other hand is not quite so liberal. Dad calls her his counter-balance, like he brought them close to the edge and she kept them both from falling over it. So I’m glad the cops called him first and not my step Mom. That night my rebel Dad came to pick me up from the cop station in a beat up VW. I had the distinct feeling he was no stranger to cop stations back in his day.
So what was my big infraction that led to handcuffs and a free ride to the cop station? I was busted for what I mentioned earlier, carrying rolling papers on school grounds. And what is significant about being on school grounds? Why it’s a drug free zone of course. Apparently that makes the crime of possessing paraphernalia for the purpose of having a good time a major offense. Dad came in looking all concerned and worried talking to the cops as if I had broken some felony weed law or something. I was praying it was just one of his little tricks to get us out of there.
Once we were out of the precinct parking lot he asked me in his calm hippie Dad voice what happened. I told him my version of the truth because we have always had a very honest relationship like that. I explained to him how we were smoking a joint before the dance at the High school and the cops came running over. Camron through his bag of weed and Stephanie tossed the joint long before they got there and it pissed them off. Not finding anything they searched us all and I had rolling papers in my pocket so they took me to the precinct for possessing drug paraphernalia on school property. A drug free zone. Straight away he gave me the like it or not its still illegal lecture, and the not ever on or near school property lecture. We drove in silence after the semi-lecture for a minute until he said, “ You mean drug free zone isn’t where you get free drugs?” He scoffed then continued, “Paraphernalia? Rolling papers? Are they fucking kidding?” The two of us laughed and my old man ran off some of his corny old cop jokes, like someone stole the toilet from the cop station and they have nothing to go on, or he points to the back seat and says he picked up a dozen donuts in case I was in serious trouble. He always admitted he felt pot should be legal like alcohol even though he doesn’t smoke it anymore. That is to say he tells me he doesn’t smoke but I have my suspicions, every once in a while I feel like my stash is a few bowls light. Anyway, bottom line my old man wasn’t a big fan of cops busting kids for having fun. I suspected my step mom Jenny felt different.
When we got a block away from home and he said, “I’m gonna have to act all mad at home cuz I gotta at least pretend to be a responsible adult and Jenny will be expecting me to ground you. I’ll need to issue some form of punishment, she’ll think that’s important but I mean fucking A, rolling papers is a fucking crime now? Look Ian, I get that it seems unfair. In fact is unfair, but that’s how the games of the establishment are played little cool man, you don’t try to beat the law, you work around it. You gotta fool them at their own game. Give them enough of what they want and let them think they have the upper hand. If you fight them they just use stronger punishment, that’s their warped mentality, to punish you harshly until you break. So here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna tell Jenny that you just made a small mistake because you were unaware of the consequences of smoking marijuana. You haven’t committed any bad crime and no one got hurt and education will work better than punishment. So you will write me a four page report, two pages on the physiological consequences, and two pages on the consequences marijuana can have on society. That way you will learn the err of your ways!” That man was a fucking genius!
We drove home and I went straight to my room. Dad explained to Jenny what was up and downplayed the incident. She apparently agreed that the report would be the best punishment and so it was set. He used that report when he and I had to go in front of the town board and they were so impressed they dropped the charge and expunged my record completely. Man I really adored that man. He could spin a story like nobody’s business. So I knew that night when he came into my room to talk about the whole situation it was a perfect time to distract him by asking him about his youth. He loves talking about his younger days in the “turbulent sixties.“ One character in particular I had always wanted to know more about was his best friend. I only met him a few times when I was young but Pops tells me he came over all the time when I was a baby. I didn’t remember that and I don’t even know his real name. My big sister and I just called him “Uncle Goatleg”. That alone had to be a good story.
“Hey Pops, you know you’ve always been so honest with me and I know you smoked back in your day, but whenever I think about what it must have been like for you growing up the one name that keeps coming to my mind is Uncle Goatleg. All I remember about him is this really nice guy with long hair and a very long beard who rode a motorcycle and drank a lot of beer. I think I remember you always being happy when he was around and I figure you call him Goatleg because of his limp. I assume it was caused by a motorcycle accident or something cause I vaguely remember your motorcycles and the two of you giving me and Molly rides wearing football helmets. Why was he called Uncle Goat-leg?” I could see a huge smile on my dads face as he reminisced. From what I recall Uncle Goat-leg was as tall as my dad and very muscular. He had very thick curly reddish brown hair that danced down over his shoulders. My dad always had a short beard, but Goat-legs chinstrap was very long. The full rust colored hair sprouted from his chin and went clear down to the middle of his chest. The hair on his face was so thick I can’t say for sure if he even had lips. Santa would have been jealous at how beautiful that beard was. Like I said, he has a bit of a limp, and he walked with the assistance of the coolest walking stick I’d ever seen. A dark red hardwood cane carved with the most magnificent black and yellow cobra snake. The head of the snake lay right at the handle with it’s mouth wide open and fangs showing so he could hold his hand inside the snakes mouth. I recall the detail of the snake as almost mesmerizing, the tiny scales, the flared head and sharp teeth were kind of menacing and I’m sure I stared at it every time he came over. Without really ever knowing Uncle Goat-leg I admired him greatly and wished he had come around more often.
“Holy shit uncle Goat-leg! I’m surprised you remember him. His biker name was Redbeard, his real name was Kevin, and we called him Uncle Goat-leg because of you and Molly. He injured his leg in a motorcycle accident. Yeah, he and I rode together a few years before I had to sell my bike. Kev had a gorgeous tricked out Harley shovelhead. What a beautiful bike. Me and Kevin go all the way back to kindergarten where we got into a fistfight over some toy or something. It was the first fight for both of us and we got sent to the principals office. While waiting, we glared each other down still pissed, and then Kevin says “I hear the principal looks like a grasshopper. A fat bald grasshopper.” I broke out laughing because he really did and we both making cricket noises and acted the fools. All through school we called him ‘Grasshopper’. We became best friends instantly and learned we only lived three blocks away from each other. Stayed best friends until he left. We did everything together rode bicycles, went to the beach, dances, girls, rock concerts, everything. We were together all the time just about all the way through school. We even learned to drive in the same car, your Uncle Jack’s Barracuda. When the time came we went to buy our first motorcycles at the same place.” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to hear more, the story of their friendship or the story of why Uncle Goat-leg left but I opted for the latter. “When did he leave and where did he go? Why did he go? Did he ride away on his bike? Do you know where he is now?” Pops chuckled, “Slow down son, it’s a bit of a story. Let me get us something to drink.” As he got up he smiled and his chuckling voice trailed off, “Always with a million questions Ian.”
When he came back a few minutes later he had a large mug of beer for himself and a soda for me. “Hey, can I have a beer?” I got the you know better than that look as he smiled. “Not this time Ian, but someday soon we’ll share a few. Tonight is all about how Uncle Goat-leg got his name. I perked up instantly. “Who started me or Molly? How old was I? Did he have the cane then?” Dad took a long swig of his beer and shook his head, “One question at a time Bud. He came over one night and you were like two and a half years old. You were full of questions even back then. You asked him over and over what happened to his leg, why does he limp, was it from the motorcycle, non stop questions. Kevin laughed and rolled up his pant leg to show you his disfigured and scarred leg. You said ’Ew gross, it looks like a goats foot.’ We laughed our asses off and then he roared, ‘Yea Ian, Uncle Goat-leg, that’s my name. I’m your Uncle Goat-leg.’ Every time he came over after that we called him Uncle Goatleg. You and your sister are the only two people in the world he’s let call him that.

The Meadows of Misgiving


While looking behind at yesterday pages
Tripped over a memory lacking legitimate aplomb
Mud hazed visions forced me cognizant to a knee
But repentance waned pale in futile effort reformed
First shackled then bound before sent to prison
In the meadows of my misgivings

Passed the pipe with my spiteful ghosts
Haunted by the commendation of the self
Sang with the spirits of what could have been
Melodic lamentations nostalgic of rueful musing
Until the weight of yesterday still held me firm
In the meadows of my misgivings

Wafting cyclones of foreboding thoughts
Compelling shivers of a malevolent dungeon
Recollection of nefarious performance’s passed
Leave me cognizant of my deficient morality
Sentenced a life of self imposed flogging
In the meadows of my misgivings

These Things We Do (It’s My Rut)

we do

A song by Krazzy K-Dog

(May contain profanity, depending on your definition)

Same old thing day after day
Wake up and start the rut
Home for dinner and TV
In bed by 11 with the lights shut

We talk and talk and talk and talk
Until there’s nothing left to say
These things we do we do each day
Hoping the light of life won’t fade away

Stretch on the love seat pass around the chips
Get me another beer hon, what’s happened to your hips?
When did I grow so old and how did I get so Goddam fat
Closed my eyes filled my gut now that’s enough of that
Gotta eat right watch my health do a little exercise
I’ll start that shit tomorrow now I want to shut my eyes

What the fuck is the point
What the fuck is it all about
Why do we do these things we do
Why don’t we just cut out

Lets go to a movie or maybe dinner and a dance
If we plan a night out then we might still stand a chance
Why ruin our streak
Maybe next week
Yea you’re right
Not tonight
Put on the boob tube so we can watch something sappy
We do these things we do so we can pretend our lives are happy

These are the things we do
To make our lives seem real
These things we do we do we do
To make our world congeal
Without these things for us to do
Seems there aint no point in tryin’
If we never did these things
In an casket we’d be lyin’

We have a favorite TV show and we have a favorite meal
Force ourselves to have these things to make our lives seem real
We’re nothing but a nest of drones working for the queen
Running through this rat race maze to feed the big machine

Its better when we’re numb
Even though it defeats the point
So after work I pour a drink
Then light a big ass joint
These things we do these things we do
To keep our lives seeming sane
So we don’t have to watch and see
Our souls slipping down the drain

These things we do because we know
We barely just exist
Sink deeper in our ant farm ruts
No matter how hard we resist
It’s the same fucking shit
But on a different fucking day
These God damn things we do
While we piss our lives away

Life is fun life is real
Life is full of phony zeal
Life is dull life is cheap
Price of happiness is steep
Life is pious life is blessed
Fuck my life and all the rest
These things we do
These things we do
Why do we do these things we do
Life will suck no matter what we say
Fucking A man…..
There’s got to be a better way


Universal Brunch On District Seven


Excerpt from Cosmo’s Guide To Cosmic Gardening
By J. T. Hilltop

After a night of love with Mary Anne the god Cosmo, in charge of the Milky Way Galaxy went to district seven to plead his case to re start his Garden Earth after throwing an asteroid at his ill thought out garden of mammoth dinosaurs. He had successfully petitioned to garner seeds with intelligence to repopulate his garden under his newly approved garden renewal program with some creatures that can think.

You say you Want An Evolution, Well you Know…….

When god sized portions of Meade and Weed are consumed even a god will suffer the effects of a hangover. Combine that with mushroom juice and whatever the hell that ‘plus’ shit was, not to mention the pleasure muscle getting an ardent workout the previous evening and it was almost difficult for Cosmo to extricate himself from the restful comfort of sleep. On any other morning he would have taken a long casual departure from his dormancy but on this day he was far too excited. The Board had approved his bid for knowledge tinkering and he had to meet up with Tall God for the obligatory lecture before actually acquiring the necessary seeds. To shake of the effects of his hangover Cosmo poured himself a cup of steaming salicylate tea, a spicy mint flavored tea that helps one focus with an added bonus of dulling head pains. Even the tea however could not erase his odd sense of paranoia. Cosmo pondered that strange feeling he had last night. Like someone else was in the room! He was certain they had engaged in their session of passion exchange alone yet the feeling nagged him that at the end of the evening someone else was in the room with them. The last time he had the odd sensation of such a paranoia was shortly before his dinosaur planet had gone to shit. Maybe a long hot shower will wash the feeling away.
A steaming shower of hot liquid methane always hit the spot. As the silvery methane beat down on his tired body he allowed an involuntary gasp sneak out. He could feel mixture of body fluids that had acquired in various parts of his body scampering down his legs in search of the drain. The gasp accompanied the fluids and Cosmo began to feel the paranoia dissipate. He reflected on his evening of unbridled passionate love making. It was somewhat unusual for a god to giving such thought about a non god but last night was exceptional on every level for Coz. Mary Anne had gone beyond meeting his sexual needs and tapped into a feeling foreign to the gratified god. Cosmo splashed some hot liquid methane on his face and shook it off. “Never get attached,” he mumbled to no one.
Freshly invigorated from the steamy liquid methane shower he applied cesium oxide in his eyes to get the red out, splashed a dab of sephora extract behind his ears smiling because he felt much better. He quickly got dressed and headed of to the Intergalactic Café where he was to meet Tall God. The Intergalactic Café was considered by most to serve the best brunch in this universe. Remarkably high glasslike ceilings look out across the vastness of the universe. The clear material is magnified at various locations to give the skies a textured look which was especially brilliant at night. Its walls were pristine white with nary a smudge anywhere, with oversize hexagonal rotating windows. Various shaped tables scattered about the dining area gave the room a random feel that borders on chaotic. The service is anything but chaotic and is the gold standard of restaurant service. The moment Cosmo walked in he was greeted by an android host. Sleek and shiny features his face was not round or oval like most beings but an almost triangular shape but with much softer edges. It’s body was cylindrical and it hovered ever so slightly off the floor and moved with grace and precision. “Welcome Mr. Cosmo. I am Valarian your host. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you. Your table is ready. Your guest will arrive shortly as he has jut left the aquarium. Would you care for a Meade-mosa?“ It baffled Cosmo how these androids could know who everyone was, who they were waiting for, and could tell with pinpoint accuracy where they’re guest are at any given time. He answered as he followed the android to a table. ”Yes indeed I would love a Meade-mosa.” Meade-mos is a traditional brunch drink made with honey Meade, citronium nectar, and sparkling Nitrogena (a 180 proof alcohol). Often served with a frozen argon cube it is perhaps the tastiest morning beverage in every universe. Besides, it was also the hair of the canine that gnawed at ones head so a perfect distraction for the effects of a hangover. Cosmo sat down at his table. The table top, in the shape of a rhombus looked like a flowing river yet whatever was put on top of it sat motionless. His chair was actually in a parallel universe so it could not be seen, but it fit to ones body perfectly. To look out across the dining room filled with patrons sitting on nothing but air never ceased to amuse him. After less than 20 seconds a hologram arrived with his Meade-mosa. “Good morning Mr. Cosmo, hope you are enjoying your stay in District seven.” Cosmo loved the efficiency of the hologram service. “Yes thank you, I have been having a wonderful time, but to be honest I can’t wait to get back to my own galaxy.” Holograms rarely engage in small talk and this would be no exception. “I will return with your beverage and a menu. Your guest is arriving in ten seconds.” Poof she was gone. Great Draconius things appear and disappear so rapidly in the District.
Tall God arrived the same time as the Meade-mosa. Good morning Cosmo, I trust you had a nice evening last night?” Tall God had a very maternal look about him. He had a rather thin torso and unusually long legs and arms, but the thing that really made him tall was his oversized oval head. No less than three times the size of a normal head it gave Tall God a good ten inches over what one would normally have. On the top of the long forehead was a mat of shoulder length gold hair that seemed to have little or no sense of direction. The ends were always frayed and they formed little groups that stuck out wherever they could. But it’s his eyes that were the most astounding of his features. He had eyes that reflected millions of years of deep knowledge and wisdom. His eyes had the ability to conjure feelings of both your Mom and your Dad and either put the fear of nucleic acid or the comfort of a mothers breast depending on which you needed at that moment. Everyone joked about how his head was so large because he had the biggest brain in every universe. He was deeply revered and just about everyone hung on his every word so it was a great honor for Cosmo to be given audience. Gods have called him Tall God for so long many had completely forgotten his real name, the illustrious Dr. Emmet Einstein. Cosmo hadn’t forgotten and vowed to find a way to immortalize the brown skinned god on Garden Earth. “Yes Doctor, I had one of the most amusing nights I’ve had in a long time. The sexual God toys you mentioned were even more special then you led me to believe.” Tall God chuckled. It wasn’t often he was called doctor and it obviously made him feel good. “Yes indeed my son. I was at the Jehovah Bar and Grill last night and heard that you had teamed up with your old pal Simon. Were you able to keep up with the lad?” Even Tall God knew of Simons reputation. “Simon had indeed lived up to expectations and then some. As for me sir, I had a most beautiful exclusive.” Tall Gods expression instantly contorted into concern. “Exclusive? Dangerous thing to go exclusive, you should exercise more promiscuous activity. Nothing good can come of all night exclusive. But you’re a big god Cosmo.” His face took a jump back to happy glowing eyes. “Anyway, let us eat. I took the liberty of ordering us some radiated Scree and flash fried Oswaft.” This was local District 7 favorite brunch served with some highly caffeinated Stimlithium. “An astute choice sir, exactly what the mathematician ordered.“ The two indulged hungrily as Cosmo released more detail of his overnight stay.
After another 20 minutes of small talk and breakfast it was time they finally reached the point of the obligatory lecture. Cosmo was one of the many garden gods Tall god was responsible for. It was up to him to warn him of possible mischief both playful and treacherous. “You must be cautious Cosmo with dispensing this intelligence because it does not come without consequence. Some of the other galaxy gods get quite jealous of successful intelligence tampering. As well liked as you are there are still a few who would love to see you fail.” This was hard for Cosmo to believe. “Why would anyone care if I fail or succeed?’ Tall God gave the naïve gardener a well deserved condescending once over. “Cosmo Cosmo Cosmo, you are forever looking at the universe through rose colored vision orbs. There are many out there who will attempt to sabotage your dream garden to further the glory of their own success story. Your failure will lift others to a more profound level of success, to achieve what you could not. Many are already jealous of how colorful your garden has become. You will indeed have more friends than enemies but there are two or three I would keep an eye on. At any rate my friend just beware. Things are not always what they seem.“ This revelation was a shot to Cosmo’s heart. He was aware that he was too easy sometimes but rose colored vision orbs? Just in case he made a note of Tall Gods concerns. “Yes of course your right. I will be overly cautious at who comes to visit.” Again the condescending head shake. “I fear it’s the ones who do not visit you need to watch the most. But that’s enough paranoia. The most important advise I will give you is this. Intelligence comes with consequential side effects and one of the side effects will be this. The species which you endow with brains capable of reasoning will develop unique qualities. They will have a strong sense of self and of worth. They will believe themselves superior to all others and they will attempt to harness all the benefit’s the garden offers for themselves. They will come to believe that the garden was created solely for them and become arrogant and uncaring towards all other species. As well they will find much pleasure in the act of procreation, more than just as a biological tool to propagate and evolve their own species. This may seem to be beneficial to you now as we happily enjoy sex here in our world, but in your garden my friend, it will lead to many other problems Your species will learn from that enjoyment many things such as greed, jealousy, envy, and possessiveness. These attributes can be dangerous. The species will do unimaginable things to satisfy these emotions. If not tended to cautiously it can be very dangerous Cosmo, very dangerous indeed.” TBC

The Soldier And The Poet


The soldier hurts more every day
Yet still ready to go to war
Putting bullets in fear today
Finding something worth dying for

Blind ambition
Its my duty
Flames of Hell
That’ll suit me
I’m a soldier
Gun in hand
Prepared to kill
Defend your land
Kill my enemy
Allies thrilled
May get maimed
May get killed
Never run
No thought of treason
Don’t want to die
For no reason

The poet cries inside each day
Yet always ready to tell more
Putting dreams into words today
Finding something worth living for

Blind ambition
Finding love
Rainbow sunrise
The sky above
I’m a poet
Pen in hand
Prepared to share
My special land
Share my stories
Abstract views
Write of beauty
Or write of blues
Beauty abounds
Every season
Don’t want to live
What’s the reason

The soldier stands on the brink
Smoke of destruction rising near
Facing death at every corner
Eyes closed while facing fear

The poet stands on the brink
Smoke of dreams rising high above
Facing life at every corner
Eyes closed while dreaming love

I’m a soldier
Fighting a war
I found something
Worth dying for
I carry a gun
My mind is numb
I’ll blow my enemy
To kingdom come
I fight for freedom
I fight for peace
Some have to die
Some have to cease
Its just the way
The new world works
Bombing for peace
Where evil lurks

I’m a poet
I protest war
I found something
Worth living for

I write for peace
I write my notions
I’m searching for
Beautiful emotions
Want you to feel
What life can bring
Every living beauty
Every living thing
I see the good side
To make you shout
Try and tell the world love
Love is what life’s about
I write of freedom
And the stars above
I want to live
In a world of love

The soldier hurts more every day
Yet still ready to go to war
Putting bullets in fear today
He found something worth dying for
The poet cries inside each day
Yet always ready to tell more
Putting dreams into words today
So we have something worth living for


Ole Man River

old man

The riverbank so old and wise
Weaving tales of travelers passed
Telling tales of lover and raft
Afloat on dreamy myths amassed

Good and evil through its currents
Hot as Hell or as cold as ice
Even the waters sneak up to hear
The mud filled banks advice

Sparkling off tips of river grass
Hidden amongst the wilted reeds
The secrets of your life revealed
At the mouth where the river feeds

Old man river
Does no wrong
Old man river
Sing his song

Water rapid
Truths revealed
Old man river
Fates unsealed

Rising off beads of morning dew
To the aroma of petrichor
Dance across it’s ballroom reeds
Beg the river tell you more

Old man river with wisdom full
Listen close or pass on through
The secrets that the river keeps
May not be meant for you

But either way the years acquired
Generations of life in fraternity
The stories Old Man River tells
Will entertain for eternity

Old man river
Waves of wisdom
Whitecap waters
Profound vision

Tales of glory
tales of woe’s
Old Man river
Always flows

Old man River
Wise and true
Stop to listen
As you pass through

Graveyard of Regrets


I’m a dreamer life imprisoned
By poor decisions of my past
Living out my life sentence
How much longer will it last

Me, I’m merely an illusion
A rainbow fading dull at dusk
Dreaming away my guilty world
While trapped inside my husk

Place a wager if you think I make it
The devil he will take your bets
If you want me you can find me
In the graveyard of regrets