The wind chimes...a mundane piercing,
A howl in the back of my mind is reversing...

Life consisted of an ominous pretense,
Left alone with the cacophony of my silent...

So they say you can't come home again,
What if I said I could go back up the yellow brick...

I would take it all back,
If I knew the magic words...

Pretty flowers still bloom, although they may have...
Openly they live in splendor, and bleakness they...

I walk along this city-jungle,
I should, by now, be immune to its disease...

Deep in the Big Swamp,
Somewhere near the 'Glades...

Spewing along the dingy walls,
Creeping, crawling, on the edge of light...

Twisting and turning, in a state of fret,
Nothing solvable, no safety net...

Sitting here, I try to keep my chin up,
But it isn't an easy thing to do...

Come with me, my deteriorating child,
We will be trekking far into the wild...

I know I hurt you; and all the pain I put you...
in my drinking days...