Old Souls of The Underground Railroad
She just wants me to sit outside her window
Look up to her, as I paint her imaginary halo
She schemes of sprinkled lust and day dreams
Posing as a poison rose, she practices her script
Mostly tears and screams, make believe make-up
Such a lush, she’s blush; open one’s eyes: awake
Her voice is piercing, alarming; face perfectly poised
She lays in bed all day, just worries and lies
Her handcuffed hands hurt so bad my eyes burn
Melting the sounds of transference to mending minds;
I feel as if my entire life I have been traveling
Into the future, the parallel kind stuck on rewind
Yet here I am now, anew
A time when WE fix all mistakes never made
Our backpacks loaded with a crucifix
Some shovels and nails, hard hats and pails
We are the old souls of the underground railroad.
Look up to her, as I paint her imaginary halo
She schemes of sprinkled lust and day dreams
Posing as a poison rose, she practices her script
Mostly tears and screams, make believe make-up
Such a lush, she’s blush; open one’s eyes: awake
Her voice is piercing, alarming; face perfectly poised
She lays in bed all day, just worries and lies
Her handcuffed hands hurt so bad my eyes burn
Melting the sounds of transference to mending minds;
I feel as if my entire life I have been traveling
Into the future, the parallel kind stuck on rewind
Yet here I am now, anew
A time when WE fix all mistakes never made
Our backpacks loaded with a crucifix
Some shovels and nails, hard hats and pails
We are the old souls of the underground railroad.
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