Paradise Misplaced.

By and by,
I see the light,
On the other side of those trees,
Where people care,
And people see with eyes wide open,
And mouths wide shut,
In the other place,
Where the universe forgot,
They forgive the forgiveable,
And punish the rest.

And so it goes,

They forget that they forget,

And they give it time,

When the wound won't close,

The candies they chew,

Will get them high,

And break their wallets,

And make their mouths dry.

The symptom persisted, 

And the sickness grew,

But the place in the pines,

Was growing like gold,

The silver was plentiful,

And the bronze was scarce,

Not that anyone cared,

When they were happily eating gummy bears,

And snorting coconut oils.

Prayers continue in the night,

And the dreams are sweet,

Nothing morbid may enter,

Though cynicism  is always about,

It will not eat the censorship,

But the censors may eat them.

And when the lord the savior

When he came around

he still walked on water,

And made it sweet wine,

He placed his hands in that place,

And made it breathe lightly,

While he tread heavily through the brush,

He appreciated the noise,

The flutter of sparrow wings,

But he didn't like the site,

Only for one reason,

The smell of smog emitting from the earth.

It's a wonderful feeling,

Being content,

Because if you are wanting the best,

Always the best,

You will fall much farther down,

And break your ass,

And feel the pain, 

You snake in the grass.

Away he rose, 

And the animals returned,

Ashamed to bask in his glory,

Or maybe jealous,

That his father,

Made them just so,

With no brains,

And only instinct,

And they wished as they may,

Oh they wished as they could,

For their meadow is sacred,

They are in with their fold,

Only them,

The men come sure,

But they sure as hell go,

And they have no one to shoot them,

No one to look down in condescending tones,

Not that the lord the savior would dare do such a thing,

But they are animals,

What the hell do they know.

In the briefest of scenes,

We see the squirrel and the  coyote,

Playing fetch with a pine cone,

And then descending into  murderous intent,

As the squirrel is torn  limb from limb,

And afterwards the coyote is run over,

By a galloping buck,

On his way to find a mate,

On his way to fu-

Digression I will heed,

In the sugar cane fields,

On the other side of paradise.

Good bye cruel world,

This is the beginning though,

No end,

No painful parting words,

No plain spoken depression,

I will not find that place,

It will be just so,

It'll be beautiful and necessary,

And it'll be balanced and sure,

It'll be content,

But not contemptable,

Not something to look up or down on,

It makes it easier,

Like that place in the forest,

Which by the way,

Is in your own damned backyard.