Abovinator

Some kind of queue comes to
Cures these blues
And turn them to reds, purples, oranges.
Tell me the truth,
What it’s all about?
Why my whole likeness has changed;
Drugs? Turn the page…
How do you identify yourself
In a world of madness?
And cleanliness that cannot corrupt.
How can you change clans and
Meld high spirits while
maintaining an oath of allegiance to yourself?
When the time takes to the limit
And the mutes speak in tongues
When the mourning dead liken the living
When the turning pages and aging texts
Life themselves and raise their loins
To the misanthropic, touring topic
And melt the misnomer that waits
for the no-man to come, to return
To his body.
Where the luck does take the ways
that works and working class lures
the factory man that can can-can
And the dance the revives the once ambitious lad.
Who was the way? Which world does it take?
I use small words and make a baking gift
That nourishes the topic.
You’re taking too long and it won’t suffice
A lost, that was, listing the losers topic;
The surface of shine and stone:
I’m not alone anymore, I’m not alone.
Align to the skies and away we fly.
Where words cannot touch me
Where thoughts don’t happen at all
And never land.
And never, never land.
Never come down, never ever.
I’ll fly forever and ever.
I’ll never come down!