I'm back on my home turf now so to speak, these are actually the lyrics of a song I'm just after writing right now, it's a typical three chord ditty just Am, C and G but hey it works and simplicity works for me.
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Conventional connotations plague the minds of those,
Who deny the weary shelter and abuse their own,
Families and allies in their times of need,
They’ll sell their souls and spoil their seed,
Now I’m lacking in confidence unaccounted for yet here,
Wastrels wail “Whimsical” as they succumb to their fears,
Colours clash and cannons roar silently through the night,
To announce the dawning of the lord, a bitter tale that might,
Confuse the masses making love, their egos feigning war,
For they will never know themselves the hour they’re waiting for,
Pharisees never cease claiming callous souls,
To heed the bidding of the lord, the lord they call their own,
It’s not for me to decide, lesser men have failed,
To realise or recognise those who will not yield,
For reasons sake logic tore from your mother’s womb,
Still born albeit reconciled with our certain doom,
Morning rides upon a mount surpassed yet always true,
Toiling from dusk till dawn for the love of those like you,
Tending soil and waking woes from the earth’s own pure heart,
Empathising blatantly with whom she must depart,
Frustration lacks the thought and tact to ever concern me,
Worry once usurped with greed now that I must agree,
Is to be set aside banished if you will,
Belonging to the decadent and those you thought of ill.
==========================================
Conventional connotations plague the minds of those,
Who deny the weary shelter and abuse their own,
Families and allies in their times of need,
They’ll sell their souls and spoil their seed,
Now I’m lacking in confidence unaccounted for yet here,
Wastrels wail “Whimsical” as they succumb to their fears,
Colours clash and cannons roar silently through the night,
To announce the dawning of the lord, a bitter tale that might,
Confuse the masses making love, their egos feigning war,
For they will never know themselves the hour they’re waiting for,
Pharisees never cease claiming callous souls,
To heed the bidding of the lord, the lord they call their own,
It’s not for me to decide, lesser men have failed,
To realise or recognise those who will not yield,
For reasons sake logic tore from your mother’s womb,
Still born albeit reconciled with our certain doom,
Morning rides upon a mount surpassed yet always true,
Toiling from dusk till dawn for the love of those like you,
Tending soil and waking woes from the earth’s own pure heart,
Empathising blatantly with whom she must depart,
Frustration lacks the thought and tact to ever concern me,
Worry once usurped with greed now that I must agree,
Is to be set aside banished if you will,
Belonging to the decadent and those you thought of ill.
