So there he lay, just barely moving
And they watched speechless, disapproving.
He gambled like he lived in Vegas,
But no one bothered to awake this
Middle-aged-delinquent-infant,
Smell the roses, live the instant!
Raised their noses, cast their glances,
"Disposition over circumstances".
Let him walk his crooked mile,
Not our fault, just sweet denial.
Uppin downers, and downin uppers,
Takin drinks and skippin suppers.
Endin up in slumping stupors,
Run ins with the pigs and troopers.
"Sentence you to life in sorrow.
Only past, and no tomorrow."
Stand up straight, and follow orders,
Perfect, or back in your quarters.
It's hard to jump through hoops with ease,
When your head hangs between your knees.
So there he lay, tattooed with blame,
It's hard to stand and hold the shame.
You're free to judge him as you see fit,
And crush his tender soul beneath it.
Love would take away the burden,
Not accusing, not to hurt him.
- LoRo