The Charge

Tragic those early days! when I shivered in the cold of lies; Before I
learned to always hate, and wear a painted, smiley face; when I treated
with angelic love, each unworthy, piggish thug; when I at a rainy YMCA
window, watched headlights come and go; hoping my tardy parents to see,
for home my friends had long left me; when I was bullied and mocked, by
shallow bitches and evil jocks; and when one of these I hit back, I
learned the principal had his back; and so I was expelled from school,
and alone spent months playing pool; When I was brain-washed by a
system, that turns children into cogs and pistons. And it's true that
in this early time, I sometimes felt a spark divine; Braving the rain
as Sherlock Holmes, seizing The Bounty, or as Crusoe; on the lost
highway with my blue bike, or sharing my soul through guitar and mic.
In early dreams, I flew through the desert air, but I also saw witches
in terrible nightmares; And I can't go along with these religous lies,
for Apollo is the only God I prize; But when I'm free of life and
thought, I shall bow my head and thank my God.