I didn't sleep again today, it sucks
but that is my usual insomniac way
running, drugs, bad books don't aid
it doesn't help to run away,
I've considered a blade.

I'll get up and walk around, even run
for no productive purpose i can see
my general premise isn't a sound one
but I'll be the best that I can be

so wash and eat, the basics help
even if it seems inept to do
I ask you, seriously?
what would you do?

A true fact of life is:
It's not always black or white,
but a mix of this and that-right,
which is, I trust, a bliss.

So when the woes grow, swell
find a way to your young heart.
Let no pain incise that part,
let no troubles there dwell.

Clean the stains of hatred,
in love's sponge let all that go.
Wipe out the tears of sorrow,
time needs not be wasted.

Now, hurry up! come on dear
put your helpful hand in mine.
Ways with gold shall ever shine
when good intentions clear.

it doesn’t seem You wish to answer my request
I wonder what has caused You to desire to taunt
the perky breasts I asked for are too gaunt to flaunt
though everybody says You always do your best

they say for You to grant exactly what we ask
we merely have to order it and we’ll receive
I don’t remember asking for them to my knees
just what was so damn difficult about the task?

Littleton’s son, Littleton’s son
His father loved to beat him
The poor kid was a bastard-child
Born of just a whim

Pokers of fire, glowing red
Were instruments of torture
Burning flesh and salty tears
On one so immature

Red Beard, Red Beard is so feared
No one knows he’s haunted
His daylight hours are dreadful
His nightmares keep him taunted

Stained cloak of dun, clutched closer still
Backyard grave is guarded well
Littleton’s son is buried there
In his father’s private Hell