Byron King Of Clowns
It’s just around the corner,
Walking down the street,
Floating around its sent, but still discrete.
Is threatening your peace,
Messing around with your life,
Feeding your days with a big-time inner strife.
It starts with a thought,
Then you’re mesmerized
You begin to see the picture in a different light:
Red turns to black
Blue turns to white.
Lying in your rough bed
Taking notes from your dreams
Letters and numbers mixed up in a stream
Head lays in its lap
It caress your hair
Banishing your filthy, nighty mares.
It’s already here
But you disregard
There are fifty-thousand dogs barking in the yard
Head full of weed
Hands full of heart.
Madness come like a thief
Your angles turn into curves distorting your beliefs
The angels bow performing your will
You’re the king of clowns
Fastening your seatbelt
Waiting for a sign
Thousands years of waiting in a line
You will be promoted
To a better bed
Swallow your pill and save a piece of bread
You’re already there
But you can’t move at all
Your tuxedo’s tight safe-keeping your soul
Head begins to rock
Eyes begin to roll
