There hangs a picture on a dinner wall far down a Lost Highway , some say a road straight to hell.
Paved in stories of a strangers day, some say the legendary stranger poet, his words send shivers to all writer prudes across the land. He sits at his lonely table after walking out of a foggy mist and through the dinner doors and sits with a gentle hiss.
His head sadly tilted downward mumbling poetry so softly loved to all who heard in awe, except to prude bully writers his words were heard a sinister spin for words of their sin.
The Legend Strangers poem boundaries heels clicked
I know this sounds absurd. This mystery strangers hiss, the legendary poet is just a myth in ports on every corner he shows forever more.
Never seen stepping off no ships his poems are heard long after he leaves his poet’s theme heard by feared prude writers haunting screams out of the mist into their dreams comes madness the constant sound of his hiss.
He reaches inside his dusty old trench coat , like a whip pulls out his pen then snaps echoes through ears of their prudish ways their heads buried in their tears his poems travel as winds to storm their sin, bringing fear to the bullie prude ears writers in corners of God’s land, vengeful words gathering gold so gleefully laughing unable to lift such greed those prudes
The Stranger legend poet leaves words they drip his blood from his pen and desend through halls on walls down crossing seas and mountains and streams , carving poems upon the trees.
The prude writers' bullies cry in silence as the legendary poet screams their sin in all their minds and empty dreams.
