Today is grey
Returning home half passed twelve,
Thinking of things to do with myself.
My roommate awaits,
With news of unexpected sorrow.
Shock, his state,
Hoping for a better tomorrow.
A chain full of painful events,
Linked by the danger of disdainful,
Life extinguishing accidents.
All in the name of fun and pleasure seeking.
What a great way to start the fucking weekend!
All it took was a tumble and a roll,
As he fell and sputtered out of control,
Bruising and battering his body as a whole.
Threatening to be added to the list of the death toll.
Rushed by medics of emergency,
Defying the laws of gravity,
A lone helicopter,
Cut through the air.
Awaiting, honed doctors,
Ready and prepared.
Sticking him here,
Poking him there.
Tubes replacing his head full of hair.
Struggling to survive,
With a brain full of blood.
Praise God he's still alive!!
As skilled hands ease the swelling,
By draining the flood.
Surprise and fear,
Ran through the minds of his friends.
Wiping away tears,
Wondering if he'll even speak again.
Rushing in their cars,
To be by his side.
With minimal hope to be there before he dies.
In that eerie room,
He lay there as others cry.
Some hope he'll get well soon.
Some hope that he can even open an eye.
So they sit and wait as time goes by.
He did wake up,
But only to cuss and to cry.
Now he's there with his condition crititcal.
Surrounded by the sounds of everything digital.
Machines that promise us we can go back to sleep.
In their circuitry and wiring, his life they keep.
Hope is the theme for this brightly grey Sunday,
All we can do is think of him and pray.
Carefully choosing the right words to say.
Waiting for the time he can come out to play.
When wounds are healed and swelling is gone.
A friend, a brother, another to come along.
A Hulkamaniac, as the Hulkster would say,
To a cheesy tune in another lame ass song.
http://www.geocities.com/colosseum/Lodge/9653/1index.html
Thinking of things to do with myself.
My roommate awaits,
With news of unexpected sorrow.
Shock, his state,
Hoping for a better tomorrow.
A chain full of painful events,
Linked by the danger of disdainful,
Life extinguishing accidents.
All in the name of fun and pleasure seeking.
What a great way to start the fucking weekend!
All it took was a tumble and a roll,
As he fell and sputtered out of control,
Bruising and battering his body as a whole.
Threatening to be added to the list of the death toll.
Rushed by medics of emergency,
Defying the laws of gravity,
A lone helicopter,
Cut through the air.
Awaiting, honed doctors,
Ready and prepared.
Sticking him here,
Poking him there.
Tubes replacing his head full of hair.
Struggling to survive,
With a brain full of blood.
Praise God he's still alive!!
As skilled hands ease the swelling,
By draining the flood.
Surprise and fear,
Ran through the minds of his friends.
Wiping away tears,
Wondering if he'll even speak again.
Rushing in their cars,
To be by his side.
With minimal hope to be there before he dies.
In that eerie room,
He lay there as others cry.
Some hope he'll get well soon.
Some hope that he can even open an eye.
So they sit and wait as time goes by.
He did wake up,
But only to cuss and to cry.
Now he's there with his condition crititcal.
Surrounded by the sounds of everything digital.
Machines that promise us we can go back to sleep.
In their circuitry and wiring, his life they keep.
Hope is the theme for this brightly grey Sunday,
All we can do is think of him and pray.
Carefully choosing the right words to say.
Waiting for the time he can come out to play.
When wounds are healed and swelling is gone.
A friend, a brother, another to come along.
A Hulkamaniac, as the Hulkster would say,
To a cheesy tune in another lame ass song.
http://www.geocities.com/colosseum/Lodge/9653/1index.html