Lost Boy (non-sick draft) (Patreon)

He bows his head and hopes that no one sees him

He folds his arms like chains to hide his name

He turns his gaze away from empty heaven

Within his boiling blood, a tender rage

“Oh Gos, if you are there, could you speak clearly?

I’m done deciph’ring riddles on my fate

If I am bound to die, would you just take me?

And I would gladly help if there’s no pain

How quick is death from rope around my strong neck?

How morbid is a bullet through my brain?

Perhaps this beer will shorten all my long daya

If afterwards I drive out in the rain”

A lust for death will sure consume

His living body wide awake

Every second wishing doom

A silent pray’r for stones and snakes

A silenr pray’r for stones and snakes

So if you meet this man who looks in all ways

Composed and put-together, tall and proud

Please join his silent prayer to the Lord, say,

“Oh Lord, I pray this lost boy will be found

Oh Lord, I pray this lost boy will be found”