I’m burning Indian incense for my secret crush is Indian my soul is burning for her and she has no idea I still hear his voice ringing in my ears from the first time I heard him speak my heart burst in song each time I think of him I wonder if has an idea my secret crush I watch his favorite movies Listen to his favorite band His name resounding in my head is it because heaven is in his arms or is it God talking to my heart With gentle words he dedicated to me a verse Affectionaltly he says my name Am I his secret crush? I don't wonna play no games but it's a game between two I’ve been hurt before but nevertheless I don’t care There is no need for games I’ve been played before Genuine sincere and tangible relationship would suffice no matter the distance she's near no matter the confusion it's clear and I’m battling with myself for my secret crush is a princess and I’m just a man I need green light to take the 1st step I need to be sure for am drunk with one sip I am taken by his charms Does he know it will take time? To fully trust and let down my guard We have both been through so much This fear I have will need much patience.. With so many fellows in line... could he be the one?.. It’s soothing to hear her speak it's uplifting to see her smile she made me feel weak patience would poison me her smile Elixir of life It is exciting to see his name appear When he calls on my phone See his text in my inbox Still it’s the distance I fear I’m burning Indian incense to remind me of my crush I’m burning like that incense craving her craving her touch When I open my eyes he is there I greet him before I sleep at night Reading his words caressing I know his intention... I know the fight... And it's not right she's a princess I’m no king not a knight
We’ve entered a foggy time Where only the insane are truly free Politicians thrive With agendas where their brains should be. Where “dialogue” is shouted curses Wielded like dull-edged swords And our defense against this loud banality Our faces sunken into phones, terminally bored. We no longer slouch towards Bethlehem But think its existence is just fake news. The truth is no longer a solid thing But a clay molded with our views. I’ll not try to do what Didion did, I’ve neither the competence nor the need To walk around in different shoes In glasses smoked with weed. I’ll just erode in peace here dark While the world in every direction implodes to dust. The red of it not iron-based – Eternal quiet the only end to our distrust.