Gaze if you can
through the mirror to your mind,
in search for a soul
that you can not find.
A distorted vision
awaits you there,
a face that no longer
can seem to care.
A life without meaning,
a means with no cause,
transgressions of years
scrawled with blood on the walls.
Surreptitious existence
evolved in your head.
Your questions unanswered
till too late,
you are dead.
(A little ditty I wrote during my Jim Morrison phase back around 1980.)
through the mirror to your mind,
in search for a soul
that you can not find.
A distorted vision
awaits you there,
a face that no longer
can seem to care.
A life without meaning,
a means with no cause,
transgressions of years
scrawled with blood on the walls.
Surreptitious existence
evolved in your head.
Your questions unanswered
till too late,
you are dead.
(A little ditty I wrote during my Jim Morrison phase back around 1980.)
1 comment:
Jim Dandy's a fellah in Mortville
Who lives up a road on a short hill;
Where exactly? Who knows?
But he's got enough woes
To make any Maine misanthrope thrill.
Peace,
Tor
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