The zebra yellow sun

Start as you mean to go on. The mercury of your heart temperature, a gage, of the masters
Finish within, the second, of a first tripped on the sidewalk, of the mind, the creator of disasters
Of biblical psalms, coloured against the realms of black and white, of horizons zebra yellow sun
Toes dipped in the ocean,  of the imbeciles phone , while you're holding on.

Spinning around, the sound of lions roaring on tribulations, suppositions of superstitious beliefs
How much deeper am I allowed to go, because I have plenty left in the tank of robbers and thieves
The mask of plenty, an introvert crying against the cheek of the concrete wall
I'm a hostage, chained, a handcuffed bondage, I have nowhere else to dial, no one else to call.

If I can delve, just for a minute second, I need my mothers hand to guide me
I crave her finger tips to caress me back to life, I need her strength to help this soul to see
To show and Provide an ancient warrior, still fighting on this realm
For I am blinded as we stand, the cataracts,  pupil , coated by a film.

It's the evening, a different season, spiced, amongst dictators that will always die
No longer the king of my mind, for I am the master , I am the reason why I laugh and I cry
I am the ruler of my own destiny. I am the power, the gage and the master
You no longer inhabit the cell of my brain, I'm the artist of this particular disaster.

It's a self portrait, taken in a mirror of reflection,
I chose to dalliance, tipped toes on ballerinas cramped direction
Start as you mean to go on, that's the advice I give you my son
And always scan the horizons, for the zebra yellow sun.