When Dreaming is Sin


Silly child, get off of the moon,
that is no place a boy like you should be,
so far away from me.
Find a cure, medicine man,
for this broken and defeated diaphram,
that never speaks the correct words that i so intend to release.

Can you propose and idea or two,
to mend my wound back to new,
for now it's only but a slew,
of nothing that will ever be the truth.

If i could forget one more day,
i promise i will never lay,
upon the throne of royal prey,
until the stars all fade away with age.

The End

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