Walkin on Air

A la-Carte

Are you there somewhere in the distant beyond?
How would I find you when blinded by sorrow?
Dates and time have no meaning, today is tomorrow
and my shrivelled soul's dying detached on illusion's pond.

Wither to feed my starving spirit hunger?
Hell's kitchen cooks up superb delicacies
bloating my poor belly and snuffing simplicities:
a slop-mess, I tell you and I am not getting younger!

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A la-Carte

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