Kelly Abe Resurrection Of A Fallen Dream
It started as a fantasy spun off a lack of vanity;
And promised me my sanity like warm satanic sympathy;
Stoned and drank through tragedy, unfocused from fake majesty;
A college of nostalgia flashing back through acid imagery;
The maturation managing constricted in calamity;
In questioning humanity the dream became a mystery;
The history exposing the illusion of a canopy;
To cloth a king from shining on the beauty of our misery;
Continued as a goal, a vanity mixed motivation;
No more satanic sympathy, just selfish, stubborn fury;
From ashes we rise; to ashes one fell from premature cremation;
The newest rib cut off the limb was crutch-like cast to cure me;
The final cut, the holy grail, was within guesstamation;
To persevere, I dignify the ones who came before me;
Embarking on a train of thought that reaked of revelation;
The first to fear, the last to hear, the masses can't ignore me;
But just as all the corners meet, a sharpened edge has frayed;
And life leaks from the forest that we planted years ago;
And now it seems we'd walk the path of dream which he once made;
Apparent is the naked truth in heart we fear to know;
And yes I felt his passion; And it's running through my veins;
And yes I feel his wisdom and I've taken it to grow;
And yes I feel his honor and his dignity and pain;
And no, I'll never lose the love he never failed to show;
But this is life and this is pain; I'll die a cultured man;
The mourning of a hero brings the morning of assurance;
And I'll never mourn commraderie; this brotherhood will stand;
In absolute, it's nothing less than fuel for resurgence;
To finish off the dream I know his character demands;
To transform into brutal strength emotion that is nervous;
And carry out the fortune and the passion in his plans;
To let them know the man beneath the phenom that will surface.
