The Baby

The Baby

In the beginning, there were these children that didn't know the difference from right and wrong. As they grew older, they acknowledged sinning, they had an addiction, all along. They wanted to feed it, this hungry fetus. It never wanted. Just always needed. It was growing inside them. They couldn’t defeat it. Considered abortion. They tried to beat it. Beat it!

And one dark day they forfeit to fight, which brought the unborn fetus back to life. It was full of vengeance. Hatred dripped from its eyes while they glowed vermillion red in the darkness of night (night, night.)

It screamed for power. You fed its hunger which made it stronger than this time before. Your growing weaker than a preacher who had his demons waging wars in’store.

Waging wars in’store.

Can you see the hurt within your kids? Being their sole destroyer of happiness.
Are you feeling used when hiding the bruise? A needled zombie with broken virtues.
Can you see the hurt within your kids? A parent leading a life of nothingness.
Are you feeling used when hiding the bruise? Grab the umbilical cord and cut that bastard loose.

I love you so much, but you can’t see that I’m not enough to kill the baby.
You love me so much, but I can’t free your polluted mind and toxic body.

And one dark night she said unto me when she expresses love, it kicks back with jealousy.
Her body aches with an ever-waking need to inject the vein and feed it regrettably.
Every night that she falls asleep the fetus crawls back beneath her sheets.
I awoke last night from a hopeful dream that she was finally clean for me.

That she was finally clean for me.

The puppeteer should choke on the strings, but fairy tales have truer endings.
Sweetie, It’s just me and some nurse ladies. I’ll hold your hand through the suffering, but the aborted fetus keeps eating your babies.

I love you so much, but you can’t see that I’m not enough to kill the baby.
You love me so much, but I can’t free your diluted mind and toxic body.

The puppeteer should choke on the strings, but fairy tales have truer endings.
Sweetie, It’s just me and some nurse ladies. I’ll hold your hand through the suffering, but the aborted fetus keeps eating your babies... keeps eating your babies...keeps eating your babies...

Black Tuesday

Suicides beneath gray skies. Inside the houses where the babies cry.
Starving on dreams on this lonely, black Tuesday. (I think it is today. (I think) I think it is today.)

Funnel clouds roaring way up high over littered streets where the homeless hide.
Silent, like someone important died. We’re just starving on dreams on this lonely, black Tuesday.
(I think it is today. (I think) I think it is today...There’s nowhere to pray...There’s nowhere to pray...)

I figured out the world...I’m a troubled adolescent....Is there any reason to survive?
‘Cause we are living in a great depression...
I found true love...I learned all of its lessons...Is there any reason to survive?
We, the children of a great depression...(press on)

So, repress my love for you, Scarlet. You were my biggest sin, harlot. There could be nothing quite more tragic than to bleed in the streets...like a fucking American...like a fucking American...(A product of the depression.)

Screechy windmills twirling in the night over cracking earth, overused and dry. Dust storms taking our kids from sight. We’re just starving on dreams on this lonely, black Tuesday.
How could the market crash this way? We lost all faith in our currency. In God we trust became a God of hate that severed our souls and caused this heartache.

And It wouldn’t matter who you are, JFK or FDR. These times are changing, changing who you ARE...These times are changing who you ARE... These times are changing you into who you aren’t...(Who will win the next election? My brain is froze, memories in repression. Burn your enemies in a homemade cremation and sell their remains to an organ donation.)

I figured out the world...I’m a troubled adolescent...Is there any reason to survive?
‘Cause we are living in a great depression...
I found true love...I learned all of its lessons...Is there any reason to survive?
We, the children of a great depression...(press on)

So, repress my love for you, Scarlet. You were my biggest sin, harlot. There could be nothing quite more tragic than to bleed in the streets...like a fucking American...like a fucking American....like a fucking American...