There isn’t nearly
enough
mountains of gold,

money and fountains
of the holiest water in the world

to pay for and wash away
my sins, as black as my skin,
as the lonely sky,
without the moon, the stars
and the light

of the good surviving
Lucifer’s plight.


I chased the path of the sun
to the midnight cries,
I raced to heaven
or wherever the good guys

leap into, to find God
to find peace, to rest
and lay, eternal in bliss-
Yet I was lost. I was cold

in the embrace of my sins.
I couldn’t find love.

I didn’t chase God
I chased gold, women and fame
so when I get to hell, they’d sing me
songs of praise.


SF