Write Until You Drop Dead

Write Until You Drop Dead

 

Why does one equate logic for fear
Never relent in ever giving up on the fight
One hand to hold a heart to mend
I treasured a red rose from a parted friend

Look into the eye of the storm
Cause mamma that's where all the fun is
A challenge to be free is a question of time
Love's duration in creating a rhyme

Like a little child playing in the sand box
We each drift off to are imaginary place
Far from the notion of thought that leads to death
I must confess that the heart is deceitful who can know it

Write until you drop dead
There is a funeral in my head
The procession is out the door
Lest I implore another place to score

We have come this far not to turn back now
No use looking back at the plough
The madness of Van Gogh cutting off his ear
Poe in the middle of the street in a drunken stupor

Cobain as he help the microphone on stage
There's an evil rage against the machine evil scheme
Faces in the window with storms in the night
Never relent to ever give up on the fight

Author's Note

A pure expression of art