These are the old days-
the drumming days,
soaked with fear.
Photographic white curtains,
outline dark clothed villains,
who's intentions are clear.
Legions of shadows-
descend between marrows,
brightening the mornings each year.
But not today,
not so anymore.
For the glory of smoke-
like a sickening joke,
is realization of life so dear.
No comments:
Post a Comment