I walk this lonely path, eyes blind as I wander.
Malevolent spirits reach out, Signs point to mis-direction.
I toast to it’s fallacy, as I become drunk on it’s Sham-Pain.
Souls darkened by life, present the appearance of beauty.
Two bodies as one, entangled while the hour glass empties.
Fools believe and hope. But nothing is real, just fantasy and illusion.
The hour comes and goes, her clothes fly on, you’re left necked….alone.
You’re worth is no more than the paper and ink you offer as a gift.
I die a little each time. Death holds out it’s boney hand.
Tempted to take it. Follow the sweet light to another land.
Be not deceived. Love has no place here.
Whatever you might think. You’re only paper and ink.