Pangolin Dreams

Staring through glasses with no lenses

At a tree climbing the sky.

Our father seems to have lost his senses

As he stands before our burning home

With an olive branch in one hand, the other holding circumstance;

Evidence, if you will

Gasoline dreams from a wishing well.

I was so young; we were so innocent at a time when innocence made sense.

The flames laughed at us as I held you in my arms.

Youth would not be wasted on us; we both have come so far.

What have I become? How could this have happened?

I was so careful, I wore the garbs of a saint with stained-glass cufflinks.

I'd forgotten what I was looking for.

Power is flowing but the bulb is blown,

I have no faith to call my own.

With an olive branch in one hand, the other holding circumstance;

Evidence, if you will

Gasoline dreams from a wishing well.

As I stumble onto broken knees, screaming at broken sleeping ghosts

On a hill with three trees

The royalty is coming for my loyalty.

Even Carpenters make mistakes, measure once cut twice.

I am so very apathetic.

You abandon me.

Cradled in my mother's arms, my reserves have been set free.