The Buried and the Best

Fake it til you make it kid
Nobody knows the things we did
When concrete sprouts a daffodil
But guns are sprouting shots to kill
See one of these is something great
While hate can only breed more hate
And neither is it recognized
Not understood or otherwise
So hide your kids and hide your wife
Nobody gets a lease on life
It’s for the buried and the best
For those who could not pass the test
A cobra spits its venom fast
But jump and you might find the past
Too good for you, or so it seems
With present bursting at the seams
The world is changing, God forbid
Just fake it til you make it kid

In the Interest of Sanity

Laden is the air tonight
With something dull and out of sight
It starts to make your skin feel tight
It makes you squirm, it makes you fight

Inside your dark and twisted grin
That feeling pushes once again
It hides behind the beggars’ sin
And in the face of working men

That gasp before you’re down again
And clawing at your brother’s skin
You’re trodding where the worst have been
Be careful now, the ice is thin

All sanity was left behind
But something of a different kind
Is gnawing at our broken mind
Who knows what madness we might find

There Ain’t No Place Like Home

There came a time not long ago
When home was home no more
The here and now had taken hold
And waltzed on through the door

Wait wait, not yet, I cried aloud
The time had come too soon
But time, it does not wait for man
It plucks the dancing tune

Where will you go? They whispered then
The whole wide world to roam
Right here, right now! I shouted back
There ain’t no place like home