Sing Me a Song

Sing me a song about a love that lasts

Sing me a song, about holding fast

Tell me of the maladies, tell of the remedies

All of the peace in the midst of my calamities

A golden bright home, where the light of God shone

The tree stands alone still long after the storm

Sing to me about the stars we can’t count

Sing to me some calm, when I’m drowning in doubt

Sing me a lullaby when all I can hear

Is the devil inside, whispering in my ear

Tell me about a man who died

Just to save you and I

Tell me about all the times, I fall and fail

But there’s love which somehow still prevails

Tell me of all the pretty things, when all I see is gloom

Tell me of a lovely life when all I see is doom

Sing to me a song, to help me carry on

Sing to me a song, when all my strength is gone.

Tell me I’m not alone, tell me there’s more

Tell me of place called home, life forevermore

Pocketful of Pain

A couple of bright red roses,

Bought you a couple of colorful posies

Kiss on the cheek, dance in the rain

Would you believe, twas all a pocketful of pain

Walking under the park’s tree

 

Lying among the grass and leaves

Laughing in the rain

Twas a pocketful of pain

Your first text to my phone

Smiling to myself when I’m alone

Counting days to see you again

Oh this was a pocketful of pain

Evenings spent on one knee

Sweeping you off your feet

Long drives, hand-in-hand

Somehow opened a pocketful of pain

Dear Porn King

Dear porn stud, do you feel like the man in the world
After you banged all those hot girls?
Are you happy? Are you satisfied?
Have you quelled the restlessness inside?
Now that millions have your movies viewed
And you, your body, violated and used?
If you died tonite, would you be at rest?
Or tortured because somehow, there’s more out there?
Are you satisfied because young boys idolize you
In the subconscious, aspire to do what you do?
To have your body, to have all the sex
Sleeping with all the stunning coeds?
Did living out other men’s fantasies fill your void
Or are you still looking for more?
Are you haunted at night by the emptiness?
Do you look back and weep in your loneliness?
Do your memories of youth bleed with regret?
Do you go to bed wishing you could just forget?
Tell me, is sex all they make it out to be?
Will it fill the emptiness deep within me?
So many words, connotations
Things to forget, filthy distractions
Do you wish that you could somehow innocence find?
Dear porn me, are things greener on the other side?