By now, you'll be, a million miles gone, your tongue between your teeth,
Captive conundrums, replaced with a lark, riding those railings, well into the dark.
And execrated when you're found again.
And although you won't consider coming home, at least consider those,
Kissing their Bibles and gilding their eyes, jarring the heavens with their plaintive cries,
And throwing their bonnets o'er mills.
In the light of your own vampire you can always count on being empty and greedy,
Cause piling tomorrows will leave you empty days with waiting games to skin your knees.
You haven't hit your stride, you've hit an access, a coward's contest,
Presenting prattle to ironed ears with a stethoscope in your hands.
But if you could just remember winsome days, withholding your disdain,
Thin skinned and hopeful, conjecturing how to kill your albatross and to avow,
Chivalry among all men.
With acquaintances like an interlacing arcade count on them at hazard when in disaster,
You know well the price of ladder rungs but lost the value of good friends.
Not realizing criticism doesn't contribute, eviscerating, defenestrating.
Traditions once maintaining joy, now sullied and undermined.
But oh how it helps when mavens thrush like tones outweigh those making bones,
And if all the auguries are looking bleak if words twist to justify death for belief,
Well good timber does not grow with ease.

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