Ministers Of Truth
We worship on the Internet
We only seek the truth
We like to see our facts broken down
In small parts that are easy to swallow
Because we don’t have time
For the long grind of life…
Or the emptiness that follows
M.S. Morrison
Ministers Of Truth
History Lies
History lies and time fades away.
The best days I had were never that way.
Don’t sell your soul for the memory of yesterday.
Or for the shining promise of a better tomorrow.
Live now… for history lies.
M.S. Morrison
Post with the Waifs “Lies”
Sweet Sixteen
Sweet Sixteen
She had sweet dreams in her head
A heart full of gold
She woke up this morning
With her dreams bought and sold…
She was only sixteen years old
M.S. Morrison
Hissing Sound
Tell me why
Why did you sacrifice your self
Was your life a lie
Tell me why did you lay down and die
Is it because it’s like a love affair
Just when they really love you
There is never enough love to go around
Then you are lost and cold
As love deflates and you hear that hissing sound
M.S. Morrison
Water The Horses
Time travels here
From far and near
Because it needs a rest
Time to water the horses
Who are swift at best
Time to get the bearing
Of what choices right is left
M.S. Morrison
Listened And Hurt
I thought you really loved me
Loved me because we kissed
Told me all those words I missed
My heart listened and hurt
Until I lost all my dreams to you
M.S. Morrison
The Fires Of Your Fear
I still have the dreams you left me
I hope you want them back
They no longer love me
Now I realize that you could only use me
There was no love and nothing to help me escape
But the trail of your tears
No one could save us so lets not pretend
You wanted your tragedy and I brought death near
I will no longer stand by the fires of your fear
M. S. Morrison
Leaves Of Gold
When I walk down by the river
I feel the air getting getting crisp and cold
The Autumn shines through leaves of gold
Lighting my path to a new tomorrow
Further down the road
M.S. Morrison
To The Moon Alice
I would go to the moon with you right now
If you would sell all your sacred cows and get us a room
At that fancy hotel downtown where we could both
Just lay there together…
M. S. Morrison
Poetry Star 