This is a culmination of two poems put together and sang over two guitar parts.

.

I wanted to whistle
But I forgot how
To purse my lips
And curl my tongue to
Manipulate the passing wind

Rushing for freedom
And soon forgot
The hapless tune
Seeking voice
Through my terse mind.

Stressed, I wished to cry
But could not convince myself
Of the importance of tears
So I bled.

Our youth live
In a fantasy world
Where objects
Come to life.

And the adults live
In morbid reality
Where each day
Is another minor death.

So where does that
Leave us, young adults?
A morbid fantasy land
Where ideals are born
Through idle hands
And active minds.

© J. Bernhard

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