From Himself

With one last "wish you well"

The Angels went out to play

Innocent without knowing

They spread their wings and flew away

And they left

Him with no one to save him from himself

Cigarettes on the counter

Jim beam on the floor

Looking in the mirror

Not recognizing the face he has seen

One hundred million times before

And the darkness

Hits so cold

When he thinks of the angel harem 

That he sold

For one hundred million dollars worth of worthless gold

And the smile on his face

Hides the place

On the dark side where he dwells

With no one around

To save him from himself

He is riddled with stories

And illusions of a smile

Of a long ago dream

That used to seem worthwhile

No one says

Because no one knows

Just when it will come

Terrorized by the demons

He was born with dying from

He is haunted by the traces

Of the pretty life he left

Terrorized by the places

Touching him but no one else

An easy masquerade

Marching a 40 year parade

Until no one was left

To save him from himself

And he tried to leave some laughter

And some honest make believe

A little more pretty to the pretty world

That will be sadder when he leaves

An empty notebook

In a rocking world of poetry

And his burden rested with the cause

Of making love and being free

He gave them one last "wish you well"

As the Angels went out to play

Smiling as they innocently spread their wings and flew away

The burden left

With no more reason to save him from himself