The American Dream

A sight unseen, a reality made from my
dreams.
Lone, my place; shear madness reads on my
face.
A seed’s been planted, the tilt has landed.
Greed is the sweat on my fist as I drive.
No I… won't turn around.
If memory serves right, it’s gone away. Position
poles stay the same.
No accounting for accountability; the checks all
balance right out.
And I can’t be the only one whose stole lost
and found.
When greed is the sweat in your palms it’s
hard to do any wrong.
I’m not certain about life; I try to see past sight.
I’m not in service to life.
And I won’t turn it around.
The truth be told, get lost in unknown. Save
your soul is an understated guilty plea. Don’t
you see? Ohhhhh…
Circumstantial, temperamental. I forgot your
synagogue.
Truth be told, when we live in this unknown,
certainty is all but a fog
No, I’m not certain about life; I try to see past
sight.
I’m not in service to life. I try to see right past
sight.
Realize my dreams and live my dreams. And I
won’t turn this around.
Only a son could bring all these things that
make you feel whole more than in your own
dreams.
Could you stand to give up grey-blue eyes and
see yourself in mirror of despise?
It’s only a son.