Orsino2
02-11-2005, 08:58 AM
I seem to have fallen
Amongst the armoir dust,
As I wonder-- to whom, emporers of the metropolitan
Bequeathed their armored lust.
Barefoot soldiers on the sand
Who am I, where did I land?
An army of such youthful soul,
Spare me now or take my whole;
For I am on my knees,
Am not begging, seeking rest,
Finds myself questioning the man at the alter,
For he is nothing but a mess.
Politics-- I answer you,
Something faith does not lie amidst, my fears,
And quite clearly, seeking, presently,
I'm ringing in your ears.
Crossing the bridge's time, it is now revealed,
How the tyranny of our irresponsibility seems to reign,
Our prosperity denied, esteem and honor is unsealed,
And energies of people re-strained.
Barefoot soldiers amongst the grains of time,
Time of the essence calls to be a part of my mind,
Searching for the answer, I seem to have fallen,
Is this just my sea of madness, or is it something that we're all in?
Our ship is tended to by the suits,
Pulling from us, our every root,
Excuse me sir, won't you show me the way
Is this path my light of day?
©2005 George M. Snow
Amongst the armoir dust,
As I wonder-- to whom, emporers of the metropolitan
Bequeathed their armored lust.
Barefoot soldiers on the sand
Who am I, where did I land?
An army of such youthful soul,
Spare me now or take my whole;
For I am on my knees,
Am not begging, seeking rest,
Finds myself questioning the man at the alter,
For he is nothing but a mess.
Politics-- I answer you,
Something faith does not lie amidst, my fears,
And quite clearly, seeking, presently,
I'm ringing in your ears.
Crossing the bridge's time, it is now revealed,
How the tyranny of our irresponsibility seems to reign,
Our prosperity denied, esteem and honor is unsealed,
And energies of people re-strained.
Barefoot soldiers amongst the grains of time,
Time of the essence calls to be a part of my mind,
Searching for the answer, I seem to have fallen,
Is this just my sea of madness, or is it something that we're all in?
Our ship is tended to by the suits,
Pulling from us, our every root,
Excuse me sir, won't you show me the way
Is this path my light of day?
©2005 George M. Snow