Theres a city called Atlantis
Where you'll hang your head on your mattress
All the mantras sang to you
Is there a genre more than blue?
Five fingers press their way to your temple
You will be made an example
Thats what living is about
We have every day to pout
Each a mattress to laze about
So by now you know theres no way out
Garden of the Saints
Sinners who decay
Their bug infested flesh torn out and put up on display
Oh you're hardly ever farther than a few feet away
It is always judgement day
The people are so friendly
Thats what everyone has told me
Your teddy bear watches from the shelf
Counting every time you try and scream for help
Oh he's your dearest friend
In your own world of pretend
There's a city called Atlantis
Where you'll hang your head on your mattress
It seeps with blood and tears
Youre soaked with mud and fears
Where your reality warps
Ignorant you are no more than corpse
YOU ARE READING
Creative Writing With The Same Thoughts
PoetryHow much can I scream before someone tells me to shut up they've heard it before?
