Too much weed, No alcohol,
Too many skunks in my back yard,
They smoke dreams, buy fancy cars,
Pilfering self-esteem to lose who you are.
Hollywood dark, no stars in sight,
Shots of rain, on my brick wall,
No weak spots, just a big fall.
On empty streets we find who we are,
We rise to fall, to rise and fall,
With shadows so sharp like troubled saul,
Buying the harp for david's song.
Roaring applauds on a broadway stage,
Obstreperous calls to change a page,
Your lungs pierced with silver thorns, but on your breathe I smell roses.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem