Tirade
Walk in the shadows,
Get up.
It's a long way down
the hill to this country
of boarded up frowns.
People get high.
People get stoned.
If time is money
then life is gold.
Don't feel lonely,
blue skinned and cold.
Give me shelter
from days of old.
Mellow me out
you sweet satellite.
Drunken angel
hell on your side.