The Way
We Are
The board is drawn, the minutes dull
Monotonized into a lull
His pistol finds her stamen friend
And pollinates to meet no ends
For that today it is our trend
As we revert the path again
The liquid slips the fog rolls in
And now the blood is growing thin
Her judgement comes what does he plead
Are innocent until you bleed
And that's the truth for all to heed
For without fog there is no need
© 2000 Zachary Joseph Boudreau
