To the dark side of the moon

and the things hidden

behind the glam and glitz

or our proper art eye’s

its paparazzi

putting images

flashes

lacking brilliance

the bohemian era is dead

the punks died

of heroin overdoses

all the anarchist

are teachers

being payed by taxes

walking small

in the land of

hypocrisy

its all lost in a word

and a world

so lost and alone

we make hearth and home

making landmarks

of nothingness

hope is a four letter word

so is fuck

and I hope

we are not fucked

I really do

love might be

the only thing that saves us

finding it

may kill you

survival is a gamble

who knows what

will finally get you

but it will

and all the people you love

will love you to tears

silently thanking you

for the years shared

and the pain we bare

I look for that honest stare

everyday

but only ever see it

at funerals.