Drum 21
Music - andy
Words - andy,karl

Rain fell and the cold wind blew to the bone.
The ground grabbed and the trees just started to moan
Dragged it down the earthy steps with a clunk.
Behind the door slammed shut and revealed a deathly void.
Thinking back, thoughts of red and black.
The bile yellow light lit the way to the drum rack.
Sliding across the floor with a smile like a child.
Broken battered torn cut and hammered.
On the bench the final judgment passed.
Fixed the way that all things should be.

Placed it on the table slightly trembling.
And a drop of sweat began the disassembling.
Carefully choosing implements of choice
A saw an axe and maybe something blunt.
Tare it gently slowly limb from limb.
A slice, a gash, a split, a trim.
Sawing slowly surgically removing.
Releasing strain repressed was very soothing.
But still he cut and maimed and carried on.
Fixed the way that all things should be.

He packed it tight inside the little drum,
Beside the rest and labeled twenty-one.

Lied beside it ever silent.
Thinking thoughts ever violent.
Running wild , undefiled.
Long forgotten, contained and rotten.

He sits and smiles, thinking about what he has done.
All his feelings locked away in twenty-one.
He turns the pages through the phonebook looking for
Another retch who stood in front and slammed the door.
His tortured life, made a prison for his mind,
By the ones who left his memory behind.