A Hue Of Blue
My depression brews a new hue of blue, blooms of doom balloon soon and at high noon the goon in his guise will disquise the two beautiful blue eyes with his lies. Such discreet deceit and a dissension into the depths of darkness, where no light can escape-a black hole. No such control over the whole-majoritie's role, not much more than a window to look out of and see the road. Smell the lies-like clouds in the sky, hanging over a wire to dry, ive got no time for anything except to die. Yet try, try as we might to blind the sight of the sore eyes and sweet soul of a woman so bold as to go lightly in the night-not scared of the sight. The stench and staunch shoulders he wore-sickened my senses into submission.
A furious flurry sent the ferocious boxer into the stands-once a legend in his own mind now just a scar on the surface of his hands.