WM (March 5,1962 / Kinston, Jamaica, West Indies)

This World I Bid Goodnight

Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Tuesday, October 27,2009, @ 12: 37 AM

No one cried the day I died for they didn't see it coming
Wept no one for the despondent son, for now, lays sleeping
The hand was dealt and things were felt could not I overcome
No longer could he cope with the loss of hope and never was he bunkum

Slowed now the sprinter as autumn turns to winter
Aged eyes now the squinter wedged in flesh a splinter
Drew his last breath for vigilance was death
Creepy crawlers always lurking for nothing was truly working

Gave up his life work as he slowly went berserk
Deep in murk the fool, the jerk dwelling in the middle of the cirque
Lost in the network and unanswered questions by the salesclerk
On his face never wore a smirk so he falls on his dirt

A good man it was said but voices spoke in his head
His heart truly bled as barely he slept in a bed
Sleepless eyes run red as the life he shed
Once stood in good stead philosophy no longer to spread

Never lied, never tried inside wanting to hide away
Arguments heated but never he cheated molding he did the clay
Fish wrapped in tinfoil, curry will spoil, and a house full of such turmoil
In a basement to toil as emotion, they boil for now chicken fries in hot oil

Raining the day plays the band of drum and fife
Never accomplished all he wanted in his life
Deeply cut the wounds from love's knife
Agony, struggling to pain and strife

Funny how it seems so clear as I look back on the yesteryear
Legs are weak, my voice seldom I speak for defence I cannot hear
Passed by the parade for my bed has already been made
As the music starts to fades, all debts are finally paid

No longer putting up a fight for dawn has turned to twilight
Trees have fruits that are blighted as the bedbugs always bite
Life no longer excite for all is not alright but I fight on despite
Words I cannot recite but I was always polite

Never I took flight and no one I spite
Danced for your delight, as the grand jury wanted to indict
Taken to such a height to extinguish flames once fire could ignite
As conflagration burns bright the campsite fears the counselor wanted to incite

No longer stuck and held up in a jam they sacrificed the sacred lamb
For those who never really gave a damn, I am who I am
Pandemonium seizes then night I shall not be so contrite
Longing no longer for the limelight and to this insanity, I bid goodnight

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