A Sound Song
We starve ourselves full everyday
To survive a certain very young age
Pouring milk on fresh latte
Steaming the scene with broken lyrics
So easy passing by the difficult age
Enclosed with silk brocade fame
After all it is almost that time of the day
Enthroned with a smile so genuine fake
With paper so green and dress so sage
Crushing down all the glowy boulevards
Traveling through the gory fort of glory
We store our hearts in separate safes
Brandishing our cards as if they were swords
Trying out in those amusing games
How to properly put bottles out of a ship
Demolishing heavenly properties
We fill ourselves with hunger every day
It was a very good year to be bad
Pouring rain on silver lake
Streaming our vein with Irish latte
04. 2021.
By Aran Meredith
