Flower Child Of The End Times

I’d love to walk out into the
middle of nowhere with nothing but a
joint in my hand and the music in my head,
love to be able to see the
stars by the millions again,
get lost in thoughts on god and
the world she gave birth to.
I’d love to be able to say
fuck it and mean it.
Don’t wanna give a shit.
Don’t wanna think anymore.
Don’t wanna hurt anymore.
Don’t want to struggle just to survive.
I wanna heal on some forgotten island
in some forgotten sea where nobody knows my name.
Some place where war and hatred are
legends of a distant past.
Have some local girl,
maybe a peasant or the daughter of
a tribal elder,
nurse me back to health.
I’ll suck milk straight from her breast
and be her “love child”,
listen as she whispers sweet nothings in my ear.
Oh to think of that soft,
sun baked skin the color of brown sugar and blood,
makes me sigh.
I wonder what it would be like
to look her in the eyes.
I’ve never looked someone in the eyes
who hasn’t known pain before.
Out in the real world that’s all
we seem to wanna talk about.
How much pain we’ve caused each other.
We’ve all been hurt by someone.
We’ve all been betrayed.
It’s most always the one we love the most too.
It’s been that way since Lucifer fell
from the heavens.
The whole universe riding a wave of pain,
looking for that distant shore we’ll fall
upon out of sheer exhaustion,
looking for shelter from the coming storm.
Are you all ready for the storm?
It’s coming on strong and free of mind.
It wants flesh and blood.
It wants soul.
Better batten down the hatches cause the
time is near.