A Torn Vision Crept

I think of you like those old war times…

Isolation was cold in my wet boots…

In home treatment…

Kept a man so warm…

I was a hot comb perm pressing logos and Locos…

Always coming to the sounds of you calling me…

Fresh stitching…

Your v.i.p. in to my car battery like mind…

you knew the reason it took time for memory to start up…

Shell shocked mind from battery acid…

Burned holes in my compassionate feelings or views…

You held me and my cries late nights…

Like a new born…

Sick…

I always reached for you…

Street fortunately I had fortune…

Breaking the cookie to see you…

My heart is a symptom that I feel when your gone…

Linger there from miles…

Never cheated cheap…

Never lied to a peach…

I won’t turn back…

I won’t think of war no more….

bye bye my birdie…