I remember when I used to carry you,
piggy backs and firemans lifts...

When the guns shoot,
As we march in our polished boot's...

I watch you,
as you stare at him...

Stones of black and white,
slither slowly through the dead of night...

It's been ages since I wrote a poem,
Or dared to speak it's name...

I woke up eearly one morning,
as i normally do...

Like four leave clovers,
Friends are hard to find...

An Angel passed by me today,
She was so bright that I could hardly see...

I don't like the plaque you hung on the gate,
it makes the house look rough...

I'm the creaking in the floorboards,
The monster under your bed...

She stands alone, Facing the crowd that judges...

When the hard days are over,
And the world moves kind of slow...