delving into a deprived mind
fearing what fate we'll find
running rapidly we hit rewind
but, blast it all, we're in a bind.
---
gracing the goodness of gone,
we wander aimlessly on.
damned to await the dawn,
following the paths so poorly drawn.
---
slipping into the scene of space
the fear of night seeps cross your face.
there is no feeling this could replace-
the thrill of the catch, the defeat of the chase.
---
cashing in on generations
creating new fashion incarnations
the idle minds and their monstrous creations
yet we have no inclinations
about it all...

04/01/2003

Posted on 04/01/2003
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams