He wonders through adolescence - of course, erect when he enters it
But whilst rounding its central years he feels noone echoes his sentiment
Compromised morality has shifted constant eyes to fallacy. . &
The ladies of our time are treated to a pompous ride through galleries
They're the fruit of his loom - The orange, grape and apple of his eye
His faith is stricken by an eternal eclipse as he grapples with the sky
Forbode he frets denial as his thoughts corrode and threaten viles. .
of an inner-evil that deprives him of the desire to go the extra mile
Theorizing the phuture: friends are abundant; he'd retire, but whoa. .
"Am I just lazy or a faggot? Why don't I have the desire to grow?"
Another blundered fan of malice, he evokes thunderous spans of valid. .
thoughts, which linked together help him to understand the ballads
Regardless, every day of contention leaves him dazed without pensions. .
which would ensure a happy phuture; It seems nobody pays it attention
If everyone felt spent & tired, his feelings were bought and punctuated
A broken flow can only illustrate the ways his thoughts had fluctated
First confident, then downtroddened - his mood was contrite and above it
Surprisingly blasé, he surprised himself when deciding to write of the subject
Searching for eternities. . The truth was bleak aside from laughable
The most disparaging thing was, he'd never admit this piece was biographical