this is hell, my friend, but it won’t be long.
You don’t exist - God help, me I do
Accept His help—then be super strong;
after years of seclusion (time to stew)
you’re as great as the low-down little bits
of your life, which, when summed, defer
to a marriage made of a thousand chits.
the people I am are the people we were,
I make sacrifices for my friends;
life on the bottle is forgiven through Him,
don’t know how, exactly, His life extends;
can we see him when His light would dim,
the product, then, of our malfeasance?
We’ll be together as a family—I
walk, don’t I, in His direction, and, once,
I looked outward in order to ask why
Roll tide, liquid angel, don’t die tonight.
The ghost is stoic and does what He will:
the world over loves the world out of spite,
His body is the detail that we distill.
What happens, now? I recover my plight;
to bed the first woman that I concede
Look over my shoulder, you gave me a fright
Now that you have me, we’ll take heed
You go it alone and, for that, I believe
(not only in Him, but also in me)
5D derivative—that’s what I perceive
aligned, as I am, with everybody