Unbounded eye-sight. Every sunday afternoon when His father took him around town, To shop, to wonder, to hangout. The boy was like any other, and without a doubt. Every Sunday Afternoon, when His father took him around in the car, The traffic cars lined up, the thick glass, the thick steel separating people from the outside He Smiled, perversely; Thoughts he dreamt. Every once in a while, on a Sunday Afternoon, When his Father took him to a teacher. To learn, to practice, pianist. He stumbled around, but he obsessively enjoyed looped songs; Smooth ones. Every Sunday afternoon when His father took him to and from. The images, the sights, The altered. He mischievously thought; without bounds. Every Sunday afternon, when his father took him in the car to places, To sight-see, to wonder, to question. He thought of Glass, Desecration, destruction. Every sunday, When his father took him around in a car Traffic was not normal to see, to hear, to imagine. when he thought of shatters, Decay, collisons. And on Every Sunday, when he went with his father in a car, Where the blood painted the gravel, Where the skulls were crushed under iron tracks He would see them, with a firey passion, unto the earth. And on every sunday, when he was with his father. The sky red, the bodies rotted, and sinister evil roamed. His father would smile at him, Because every Sunday, when he saw his son sitting next to him in the car. His pride and joy, raised from years; He saw his son sleeping. Pressing the gas pedal, as the light turned green. And Nothing was wrong in the first place. Critizism please? Like to hear it. I hoped you enjoyed too.