Little Boy is attracted to the redness.
Little Boy is so used to wanting;
Little Boy is so used to getting.
With no regard for the people who are 'under' him.
With no regard for the Sun and Moon and Stars and things.
With no regard for the fishes and the beastie-kins;
he wants it all, and he wants it all to answer to him.
But you're transparent; you're like a spectre.
Your soul is vacant, like Hannibal Lecter.
You're a Frankenstein Monster, stomping and groping;
you destroyed your creators, by strangulation and choking.
Little Boy has no clue as what to do now.
Little Boy is just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Little Boy is so far in over his head,
Little Boy is wishing that everyone was dead.
With no regard for the people who are 'under' him.
With no regard for the Sun and Moon and Stars and things.
With no regard for the fishes and the beastie-kins;
he wants it all, and he wants it all to answer to him.
