Wearing lies,
Like fake tattoos.
Lips as thin as an axe.
He has grey eyes,
And has no ties.
These are just the facts.
He looks kinda sad,
In his shabby clothes,
Walking down the street.
Maybe he’s mad,
But I am glad,
Our paths will never meet.
He always means well.
His intentions are good,
But the world just looks away.
How far he fell,
He would never tell,
Even to this day.
When no one comes,
And all seems lost,
What is he going to do?
The silence hums,
But the beat of drums,
Will always sound for you.
