If I say to you, my friend,
Our day is coming and will end.
A life filled with love and pain,
That when gone, there is no refrain.
Never more to see the beautiful Spring,
Nor hear the sound that birds sing.
My mind is running away from me.
I think I need a pre frontal lobotomy.
Thoughts that are stuffed in every place,
Wedged in cracks or any empty space.
I need some time. Time to think
Or I may have to turn to drink.