White shuffle, red dance, green heart, black pain
Shot gun face deep inside of the maze
And of course you will find the dark little man
Running to hide as fast as he can

He’s always afraid you won’t understand
That’s why he talks to his dark little hand
You look for him, in the hollowed out trees
Screaming forever in his blasphemy

And the echo rushes back twice as loud
Turning up earth to bury your crowd
You fall down and swim in the thick hot shade
Another sweet victim in a sundae parade

Slowing your mind, filling your soul, eat and feed
Counting the hours with a time clock greed
Chocolate with strawberries and blood for it’s wine
Hope is a struggle that lusts on the vine

White shuffle, red dance, green heart, black pain
Life sucks sometimes but it’s only a game

© 6/12/1997
William Grant Preston

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