Cult leader? Only music please

Alejandra Martinez
 
The deafening sound of silence
You are decaying in this cut-off cell
Biased denial from the recording world to bring your traumatic songs back to life
Excruciating death for any artist
Pacing around a cell, dull and impersonal; shared by many traveling rats
While among the free souls, the sound of your work resounds
Within the walls of Beauty is Pain Boutique. You have been reborn
Works which, like you, were confined to a life of being an elapsed recollection
There a part of you, a legacy of Charles Manson is found
 
Among what may seem many familiar items, retro knickknacks and fashion, punk-inspired
Yet again you are heard, you are felt in the Hollywood scene
Moving along the streets of California you will yet again walk
Out of the four gray walls of the gloomy cell
By way of your composition
Through someone’s veins you will flow
In the spring, fall, winter and summer breezes you will echo
As someone bakes a sweet, succulent apple pie you will become part of the recipe
No longer a cult leader but undergoing resurgence musically

 
 
 
 
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