Pennies Of Innocence

I had the bricks,
The cement, the dirt,
The flirt, the right things
To say, the sun to fade away,
In my mind is a castle,
Endless hassle, endless
Sand building, endless
Rewinding—had the spread,
The right food, the right mood,
The right sanded edges of you—
The border, the borderline—
The edge of night, the edge of
Doing right—
I have this bank,
I have this plank,
I have these pennies I have
Been storing up,
I have the money all
Piled up—
This mind is a pure blood
Bank, a streaming engine
For those it is saved for—
A reservation,
A pure and Holy invasion—
I have stained it, I have
Spent it—on me, on the
Parts, on the body,
On the endless conformity
To a life of not purity—
Pennies of innocence,
Pennies of white,
Pennies of right
Are not out of sight—
I have wasted purity
Wasted it on me,
On the many parts of
Those that have wasted
It too—
Shall another generation
Live dull and dead with
Feet like lead—blood bank
Gone and spent—now I
Need the oxygen—
To live and breathe
Again

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