It Just Nullifies Him On His Way…

Discharged from his mother's loins The man who sleeps, who is born With sleet in his two opal eyes He must give up his childish toys. Must keep smiling through the pain. Run his fingers through the oat fields And feel the wind's dewy breaths— Kiss on his retiring lips, full of bane. He must linger alone until the calendar Turns a page a day, until you stare Run into his arms, glad that you're home. Oh, mother of the next man, lacklustre. With a taste of lost ill-begotten love Burning on his lips, two tearful eyes Waving him away… her son on his way Son, soon you'll be a man someday. Son, you'll be a man someday. Her smiles, it just nullifies him on his way… Her smiles, it just nullifies him on his way… Her smiles, it just nullifies him on his way…