A mythical musician
With a flipped composition
No guts nor glory
Just a story of prepositions
No buts, or decisions
Just listen
Name was David, but MOM called him Dave
A horrid man; tall as a ceiling fan
He was a slave
He fell victim to environment
Murder was the case
Yes, Dave conspired it
Whether or not he realized, he was the fire that started fits
Throughout his childhood, he took many hits
From MOM, she would never quit
Beating after beating, how could spirits be expected to lift?
They couldn’t, so Dave reacted on im-pulse
She said he wouldn’t, but her death was the re-sult
Dave was only twenty years old
A sad story, let it unfold
His heart grew cold
And…
And his sorrows began to bestow
And…
Mama Dave was slain through musical notes
But the seed was believed to be the cause
David was the problem and couldn’t be resolved
He would scream and inflict the pain
For two decades, MOM cried throughout the rain
Night after waking night…
Day after sleeping day…
They would always fight
Even though Dave had nothing to say
Dave was never real
He was just a voice in her head
Every morning, MOM would slice her wrists while laying in bed
The scars remained and she could take no more
She slowly opened and walked through the bedroom door
To her left, on the floor, was a radio
Say it ain’t so, it played a chilling song
Soon, so soon, the villain Dave would be gone
Music through her ears, dare not she shed anymore tears
No more hatred
No more laughter from her peers
She looked right and saw herself in a mirror
The agony was always there and the bruises only grew clearer
No more patience; there was no longer any fear
Dave starting gnawing; yelling for help
She walked to a chair; wind from the ceiling fan was felt
Rope in hand; a single tear then fell
Life was to be over
She climbed the chair and hung herself
Life was to bare no more weight on MOM’s shoulders
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