Before ideas are formulated into thought
is an intuitive grasp of what has been wrought...

In a forgotten time long denied by good men
we were all evil and mutually drenched...

Waked up early by a frantic
Tim, my road buddy...

When you walk at night
with a gray cat in the park...

Neon guitars and Day-Glow stars
no longer put a grin upon my face...

Underneath the sidewalk we cannot see
beneath the concrete is a mystery...

It lies beached and eroded
steel decking sags in exhaustion...

The shadow slithers
in the darkness...

Picnics were made for rain
I’ll put it into this ballad...

In the stands you could
just make out her face...

Evil must perish
leaving Javert no option...

I thought I had made
all the Parental Mistakes...