Tasting the sand

The monster of this harsh debt ridden  soul that harbours
A mind with razor sharp misguided teeth like scissors in a barbers
Don't allow that perspective hair to stand effect on the back of your neck
You freckled faced induced son of a bitch  on heat fire drivin caustic.

I will sing for you until my throat  goes hoarse
Like an abandoned nags  knowledge put out to pastures forced
My fingers tremble in a nervous jelly of diagnosed shell shock
The trenches plague my thoughts like scissors and paper then rock.

Bombs I name fireworks disturbing the cells and I try to sleep.
Yet the drum beat I tried to lull  continues to crawl and creep
It disturbs and disrupts cutting through my dreams like s blade on a wedding day cake
But I go on pretending my world is alright yet I'm a fraud and a fake.

I have the taste of the sand and the waves in my mouth
My compass is destroyed I know longer know the north from the south
I just stare into a background space from my nursing home bed
They just force feed this foi gras goose till I can no linger lay and I am dead

Will life ever realise I was a chapter of its book
That I contributed to the tapestry and they gave me a dirty look
And if heaven awaits me I'll tell god of my trials and deep tribulations
That I boarded the red eye and made a difference at hundred thousand stations.

The inspector may have punched my tickets but I made a difference you see
I've nurtured generations through eyes of wonderment and glee
And yet even st the end of the railroad tracks I still taste that freedom sand
From the D day landings and the breath of the air in that ever lasting  land.