Wet Candies

 

He was a ghost with his pale skin

Ever vivid when he speaks out

Every touch was symphonic

But his mind was out of sync

He never wanted any of your money

Never understood any of your ladies

All he wanted was the rainbow

But all he got was wet candies

And now he’s flailing in their hues

Every touch of his it turns to gold

His gold they all used as jewelries

That stayed on their necks until their skin would bleed

Never taking off, want to show their wealth

No idea they looked funny

His gold they buried in their yards

Never letting down their guards

Pretenses of mourning, crying tears of lost

If only you knew what those tears were made of

He was a ghost with his pale skin

Ever vivid when he speaks out

Every touch was symphonic

But he was a walking tragedy

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