He's not a saint, why does he preach? He's not a king with a speech. He might be a life giver; a dream liver..or a fool.
"One, two.. A lonesome day, a bright morning had come upon a jaw broken man. With the light on his shoulder, he had to find a job other than finding straws for birds to sew their nests, or threads for an old woman to build a house. He was faced with a sense of responsibility for the growing ideals and fish tanks that would trap his thirst and make him plead..or maybe grow"
"On the same day, a soldier had to run, not from fire but from his gun. He had to leave the army and follow a mother's call; a powerful instrument that conquers all..or maybe some."
He's not righteous or even sane. He's barely out there; his heart has gone vain. He lives with music and and his friend; shame. He might be loved for his name, but where does he stand now? Where does this entity remain?
"One, two.. There was a girl that heard of secrets in the alley but when she got there met the lions by the gate. She had a sense of fear but mostly a power she never knew. She was never told the truth and now it was time. She never fought for her secrets for she was told it's a crime. It was time. Her heart beat stood before her, the lions eyes lost their covers and told the secrets, then she knew they were okay..or she had none."
Tell this fool to stop. Tell him his voice is only the hope for an empty room, an empty chair and this hollow feel. Tell him not to feel.