Greed...

I sit and stare at what we've become
What is society doing what has it become
Can we blame our government
Or should we blame ourselves
Constantly buying everything we see on the shelves
We as people get so greedy
Do you need your fancy car?
Do you need your big house?
But do you know children are dying?
Its because the lack of money that were supplying
Am i lying?
No now im crying!
Brothers and sisters come and speak
Greed is whats making our country week
The hardships we face
Those gratuitous events
When will it end?
What will it cost?
Will my tears suffice? !
People we can be one
share what we can
For when you look at history
Greed has done no good
Greed will end your tides
Greed is the shine in your eyes
Greed is what separates me between you!

Little Black box called Television...

                                          I watch it
                                          Morning, day and night
                                          The plasma screens are quite a sight
                                          Soap Operas, Reality Shows, Movies
                                          I watch anything there is to see
                                          But the little black box called Television
                                          Gets on my nerves

                                          Images of other people’s life it serves
                                          As a daily dish to my vision
                                          Even my own ideas about studying
                                          Are ruthlessly destroyed in its mission
                                          To impose on me of how to live

                                          But I love Television
                                          I am addicted to Television
                                          Like glue is to paper
                                          Or love making is to a beginner
                                          I am its concubine with my permission
                                          Please at me, don't point a finger

                                          When I am lonely
                                          It is easier to pretend
                                          The images presented by TV
                                          Are my friends

                                          When I am horny
                                          Without sounding funny
                                          I can make love in my bed
                                          After breakfast in bed
                                          To anyone from the TVs images
                                          Now endorsed into my head

                                          That little black box
                                          Sucks, it really sucks
                                          It is just a vicious circle
                                          Bed, Work, Television and Bed
                                          Bed, Work, Television and Bed
                                          Bed, Work, Television and Bed

Angel Of Death.

                                          In darkness of the night
                                          I spied him in a tree
                                          Sat I froze by the sight
                                          He was looking at me
                                          The summer's heat became a chill
                                          The angel of death at his kill

                                          My heart skipped with the fright
                                          Blinked my eyes to better see
                                          Glanced back with all my might
                                          Parted he my compaany
                                          My chest was quickly pounding still
                                          The angel of death at his kill

                                           I did rise and take flight
                                           The fear made me to flee
                                           From darkness into light
                                           To free captivity
                                           Unbinding my soul from his will
                                           The angel of death at his kill
                                           Many years since that night
                                           Gazed I on that brazen be
                                           Memories of still incite
                                           Fears of my slavery
                                           Existence of him makes me ill
                                           The angel of death at his kill

These Beaches....

These Beaches is too shallow. I need a tornado kind of tide to wave on in and clear the deeply printed footsteps that She's left sketched in my warm sand. And then I need the Sea to catch wind and show me that there's a great, big, huge ocean out there with a mermaid who's not too afraid to stick Her chest out and be confidently naked with emotion.

"I am a Champion, but sometimes only Olympic Pools knows who's Gold."