Down the road

In steel country

There is a pawn shop

Calling the shots when the going gets tough

Dictating each move when

You get turned down

And have to start anew

I fear that shop

I fear my own mistakes

I fear where it call all go

Yet I embrace the unknown

What keeps us going

What move us

If not positive

The negative motion

Mother of fear

We React

Instead of proact

The horror fuel pumps

The blood in our veins

But hope for light

Can do the same

Refund the reception

On a rainy day

Let the money go back

To the ones to play

In moments we hold

Uncounted bars told

When the people leave the room

The reception

Will end soon

Mundane minister

With nice pulpit

But nothing to say

Puppet

For no one

Nothing

No how

Preaching with no purpose

Small master

Of few things

What more do you need

In spite of feelings

Growing up into a great

Embrace

Letting up

Loosing face

Hold the buffet until the

Line is down

Small master

All around

Not to participate

Or interact

A swell observer

Stats in tact

As well as perserving

The words

Used to

Destroy

Or denounce

A swell observer

A swell amount

Prove the paint

Worthiness and true

Tried in times of challenge

And stayed

In times unglued

I had woke up late

From a robot nightmare

Creeping from my brain

The UV rays

Too much had came

And I stared up

At the paint

Prove to me your worthiness

Challenged

And true

Institutional victory

Held out over our sick

Heads

As we throw up

Feelings and emotions

Of loss and helplessness

The institution wins

Over the people

Again and

Again

Helpless gate

Aimlessly moving awkwardly

Strange and mysteriously

Animosity

Of the procrastinators delightful

Fearful tearful disgraceful gate

From the doors fall

As I awate

Keep it straight

On the narrow path

Clear of the weeds

Clear of the wrath

A lane period is needed

To return to normal

Keep us on the straight and narrow

For now

You and I can use

A lane period