Blended beginnings, puréed endings.

The orchestra planned the whole thing
right from the beginning.
trust in the situation began to waver
Taking a thousand years(to ants)
to regain its flavour,
I did not savour it long enough the 1st
or even the 3rd time,
Like a genius that doesn't know how to dress itself(Asexual)
or billionaires that refuse to spend their vast amounts of wealth,
things are fundamentally flawed when Michael Jackson puts himself
back on the shelf.
But things work out
they have to
always will,
Not forced optimism
but an enigmatic prism
of opportunity
Dispersing light made of ingenuity .
Play me off the stage
and I'll be happier with age,
My burning rage lit this torch
and I'm going to carry it
to the wisest sage I know
Lighting the way with constructive anger
Build a temple to worship everyone
and no one at all,
Violins always playing upbeat fiddle music,
not sappy sounds for cruise ships,
the way monks practice being kind
as to never loose it.
No one was framed here,
in a picture or behind bars,
unless you you count records
locked in the trunk
of a 70s muscle car
All in good condition
which means they were unloved.
Yes the orchestra acted alone,made that call,
The orchestra planned it, started it all.
Unwitting masterminds to an extraordinary degree,
the music saved my life but there's an everlasting fee,
I have no choice but to sell chunks of me.
The music however is a different story,
Music finished it, the kill was slow, painful and gory.