My muse is what some call their blues
With this pain and trauma how can I lose
Unchain the poet let it lose save the wine spill the juice
Coach put me in I’ve been practicing taking my medicine
Thumbing through the pages of my notebook
Some I save some I tear out things I’m no longer about
Sweet and sour makes the best lemonade
Like the month of august needs some shade
Heaven can’t wait it sound like too good of a place
Hell is like something good gone to waste
I’m willing to die to this to live for that
On another page looking up I see sun rays
Ray Band some cool shades red Kool-Aid
I lived to tell it to tell it all
Why we rise when we fall
Take a good look out there
Exra! Extra!
Read all about it!
Listen to the radio activity
Vapors
Condos on the moon
No room
Members only
If the jacket fits
Decode it
Crack it
Jack it