Write Until You Drop Dead

Write Until You Drop Dead Why does one equate logic for fear Never relent in ever giving up on the fight One hand to hold a heart to mend I treasured a red rose from a parted friend Look into the eye of the storm Cause mamma that's where all the fun is A challenge to be free is a question of time Love's duration in creating a rhyme Like a little child playing in the sand box We each drift off to are imaginary place Far from the notion of thought that leads to death I must confess that the heart is deceitful who can know it Write until you drop dead There is a funeral in my head The procession is out the door Lest I implore another place to score We have come this far not to turn back now No use looking back at the plough The madness of Van Gogh cutting off his ear Poe in the middle of the street in a drunken stupor Cobain as he help the microphone on stage There's an evil rage against the machine evil scheme Faces in the window with storms in the night Never relent to ever give up on the fight