Prey On It Poem by Robert Burgan

The birds of prey are circling the sun, the mornings dim
I stand behind the shadows of my past to begin again
Can't decide if I'm good or bad, I'll live within the middle ground
A past of masquerades my sinfulness gets whittled down
Maybe Napoleon's not big enough for his own britches
The void that holds his self-esteem can fit between the stitches
I can tell you what you want to hear, I can deviate from real
But I can't bring myself to wear God on my sleeve, its hot in here
I prayed last night, he did not appear
The only realities I see are fallacies that people fear to make their conscious clear
I accept reality the mirror is etched in fog
My nightmares were my dreams; 24 years of mistakes create the dawn
Long road ahead, ashes flood the mass I'll sleep in on Sunday
Monday brings fixation back
Every time my tongue emerges to scream the Pentecost
I feel no guilt or shame for the redemption lost
We strive for new beginnings we hope to overcome
We wear our hearts like gloves and sift through trash to find our truest love
What happens when we find it? ? Title fits the crush
Love each other dearly it gets interfered by lust
I'll bust open a cloud, read aloud to the sky
Give it everything I have until my energy supply subsides and I deny the things I can't define

The birds of prey above me, I'll sit and prey on it
Bum smokes to folks who can't control their urge to live in shambles
Every other day I plummet, rummage through my stomach to find the substance
That fed the puppet
The birds of prey have landed feeding on the carcass
I'll speak the Pentecost until the world gets charred.