Whispering wind like a thousand candle breaths
Laid out for all to feel and hear and see
Like six golden haired maidens in a line
It's a fair, it's a vanity show
And as far as the unseen eye can see
We are drowning in our misery
Self inflicted, self proclaimed
Why do we play this mysterious game?
Serpent snake of the sea
Swimming in a pattern divine
If the gods made everything
Then who made them, and why?
I think the question should be
Why but not who
And maybe religion would be beneficial
And we could learn something about ourselves
Slight conditions and terms may vary
That is very inconvenient if you weren't aware
And maybe all this bullshit in the world
Is really meant to scare
So meandering thoughts may wander aimlessly
But so do most in life
And wandering gets you one of two places
Creative climax or a rough life (often synonymous.)
So feel the breeze through the small window
Of your self imposed cell
Your prison, your terms
You call the shots here, warden.
You ever wonder why you were going crazy
Realized you cut out your portable music player?
Don't do it
You'll go literally insane
And whispering flowers tell no tales
There aren't any sea shells here
They may tell a tale
That sounds to the ear so queer.