By Phoophi

Many years have gone by,

Since my master passed away,

Once nothing, now everything,

He made me, me,

He made me famous,

As my plain canvas was coated,

In many beautiful  colors,

By a beautiful man,

 sick in the eyes of the so called normal,

His memory i hold 

Never once letting go

Times of new and times of old have come and gone

With the memories i hold

But i hold my masters memory bold

For those of torn emotion bring their truths

To those who do not know my master's voice,

Have lost the love he could voice,

And the insanity he could say. 

I know his pain in touch, 

In spirit ever real

He calls us to run free

To live our lives 

To be unique

In thought, in word, in voice

In our songs of look and choice

I say this through my master’s tongue,

To be unique when you are young, and old, and yet to come

so tell me now 

What do you think of a broken man with broken dreams

Or is he more than just a shrink 

Is he a beautiful man

In a dull world