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Losing It

 

A certain measure of innocence

Willing to appear naive

A certain degree of imagination

A measure of make-believe

Edited by Super25Smasher
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The Pass

 

In softest voice there's an acid tongue

In the oldest eyes there's a soul so young

In the shakiest will there's a core of steel

On the smoothest ride there's a squeaky wheel

 

Correction on previous entry: I read The Oracle's signature by mistake. I meant Entre Nous.

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Making Memories

 

Pound the drums with martial beat

Pound the streets with marching feet

Wounded pride, distorted eyes

Paint the night with battle cries

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Peaceable Kingdom

 

Cities full of hatred, fear and lies

Withered hearts and cruel tormented eyes

Scheming demons dressed in kingly guise

Beating down the multitude and scoffing at the wise

Edited by Super25Smasher
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