The moans of man’s concerto
The moans of man, sinful am i
a sincere weakness is my reply
a weakness in what remains,
with a knowledge of all things changed,
i guess its an age old verse,
echoed from the pains,
the pains of everyday,
the crippling nature of man and his vision restrained.
Go moan! and flood the streets with your noise!
without reason, purpose was a cage uninspired!
Rage has caught up to you,
it has exhausted your youth,
fatigued and retired.
Go ahead fall away into the palms,
poison is the hand which has moved,
the eyes stare at me at all times with such pity,
he without a father, unknown runaway lost to his day
caught in his own fire just like his father,
two unknown’s yet stand as the same
Let my response be in that we are all heading to die,
so let my (out-of-tune) concerto play once more.