Sons of the Wilted Bamboos
Waltz with the goddess of the willow trees, Scribes of the honey bees,
Listening to the lectures of the wolves of the money leaves.
Hallucinations of my deepest thoughts, the pride of a lion,
Like the march of the black jews on the path to Tzion.
Light spectrum to the prism, the narcotics is the prison
but the locust burst my ear drums so i could never listen
to the words of the wise, the snakes speak wisdom
The Result? The Demi-God another victim of the system...
*Exhale*....Peace peace peace....
Cut the optic nerve to the vision from the third eye,
so we compensate and see the world from a bird's eye
Attempts to escape the mental sphere, but do we really ever try
Or was this entire farce just an excuse for us to get high....
Edited by Red Opus, 30 January 2016 - 11:56 PM.