Oh Lord, Help me!
My bong water Is murky.
I don’t want to swap it out or Something,
Make it so That when I need it, a new one is ready.
These heads just want to rest without You, oh Master!
Tales you must tell that once fractured the Will of the petty.
“Up!”, you must yell. “You can Never give mind to your pain,
Yet, channel it, let it Find its way into your flow of fury.”
It will change nothing; not you, nor Me.
Isn’t this within your grasp? Why am I pushed into Running away from my past?
Surreal dreams collapse empires. So For those dream-makers that crack, I say,
“Anyways, you were once unworldly.”