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| Fancy Calls |
| See me for what I am, I will not fault you to call the devil at my side or in my head There is a darkness that flames a burning crying of dark blames and a wish to find the ending to be final. I am not what I seem in words or actions, but an act or play from odd transcriptions I cannot see what I cannot feel a glistening razor turns a wheel my mind is locked in steel and chains. There is no wonder in the field of dreams. Acceptance is nearly complete, entrenched Mine is the lot to fumble grasp A false sun in which to bask, To waken the expanded mind delusions. I walk as if a giant among the peasants with no speak, it is in my mind and theirs I flow the clouds and ripple wind I am the water, I draw the skin and vessels to mighty control of my body. I breathe as if through my myriad pores and food is not important, only coffee to bring the best of no fantasy, all images are real, rent to see, as if there lies the answer to my power. My fingers are the hands to the gods, My head a central processor of repute, for I may cause one to act or move as suits my fact and fancy calls the mania to fore. � 2000 DPMcClellan |
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