Forgiving The Passionate Hubris

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Forgiving the passionate hubris

The least fractured figment of my ire

But I’m not competing for affection

Denounced for their fateful friendly fire

So I’m taking the eastbound train

To remove myself from the glitterati

The Urban gentry called for my death

Betrayed by those who are rash & haughty

The train tumbles on through the rain

Steaming towards the next Highland city

Needing a respite from those judgements

From the girls who love to be called pretty

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I Grew Up The Son Of A Blue Collar Worker

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I grew up the son of a blue collar worker
The old man drove those freight trains
Long hours away from his family
Guiding those Iron Horses across the desert plains
But you say I had it easy – because I’m white
But there’s no retort, I cannot pop your racist balloon
I shake my head at your ignorance & wish you well
But first, let me stir my latte with this silver spoon

idiot.

Perfectly Lined Rows Of Trees

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Perfectly lined rows of trees
Our escape from the mundane
Shaking away tilted visions
Of a ghostly morning train
Remembering her latent beauty
No place for such fickle motions
Return to living your current life
Set gently against the Atlantic Ocean

Rode The Train Through The Foggy Sunset

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Rode the train through the foggy Sunset

Wrote an outlaw song of love/hate

Undercurrent ramblings in sullen streets

For eternal happiness, I still have to wait

I ran away from my former sinful self

Peeling away truth from this somber gem

Trying to see clear of returning to you

No longer will I ever be listening to them

I break free of all regard

Push past all whispers in my ear

I rise, standing tall as a mountain

Waves wrap me, wiping away all fear