the monkeys of violence trample and crush, but they're having fun so why make a fuss? rush of pain to the heart, that the head cant control, this corpse on parole, is a child running scared, not from monsters under beds, or darkened tool sheds, but of life in the past, entwined serpentine, love with the hate, she forgets, she lies down on her bed and she sleeps and regrets, she sleeps and forgets, and she sleeps and regrets, till all witness is gone, the suns shining strong. in darkness prolonged, child lies still and cold, buried with armor and a will to be bold, till the corpse on parole, is called out of her bed, aroused by fear, she rears her ugly head and looks upon monkeys and screams out to stop, she screams out 'no more, iv'e lain here so long and ill lay here no more'. she is slightly decayed since she's been locked away, and all of her jailers demand she obey, corpse on parole will hide in a tree, like a primative tourist, confused but set free, till all of the monkeys begin crushing heads, with tail between legs she returns to her bed, where blankets of amnesia will cradle the pain, the monkeys are laughing while she locks her own jail, 'we're having fun here so why make a fuss, yes you go away now, you're not one of us'. the monkeys of violence tap dance on my heart, they laugh and they jeer, they smirk and they sneer, leer, domineer with their eyes so severe. while corpse on parole lays down in her hole, she sleeps and regrets and sleeps and forgets, she sleeps and regrets and sleeps and forgets, till all witness gone and the sun....shines....strong...
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