Child is father to the man
Impressions imprinted years before we've been grown
Do you know your own mind?
No memory's engrafted, repeated, recycled
Treated like their originals copyrighted, cited
We can just about see a copper colored sea
Shadows haunting shadows, there are elements of me
A floating ship, the heated debris
My skin tightly bound, I hear the screeching
Sound of seagulls circling with endeavor
Preparing to feast on waste meat coarsely trussed up with leather
Brash strokes of an abstract line become blurred
By the overwhelming feelings of something you've heard once before
Like soundwaves battering the shore, storm clouds gather
I remember the wealth
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