Childhood, that age of innocence, before the world layed waste to naivety, and I was reborn into a world of apathy.

Luke Warm.

I’ve got a friend called Luke Warm doesn’t know how to go to town
Can only do things by half, half a smile or half a frown
If I buy Luke a pint, with a nod he may acknowledge
But then again maybe not, just that old familiar.
negative image.

Luke he follows me around no matter where I go
I try to start a conversation, the answer “I don’t know”
Luke he lives in some other world, far different to mine
Where I strive for perfection, basic he can’t find

I decided, Luke my friend, I will wake you from your slumber
I will not sink to your level you will not drag me under
Fantastic things I did construct these issues to address
No response did I get, totally failed to him impress

I built a temple, from bricks of love, a roof of shining stars
“Oh yes, that’s nice” said Luke, but you could have built on Mars
I’m going to pour my heart out, I’m going to write a book
Paul and all his ilk will understand once they take a look

So this book I did write I opened up my soul
Full of embers of my life, full of burning coals
I put my masterpiece out there for the world to understand
Luke and his friends like giant nothings crushed me in their hands.

All words Meadowhead Bard.