EIGHT LITTLE CAKES

Eight little cakes sitting there in a row,
Oh how we cherish these cakes as we eat them slow.
These cakes are the poison that keeps us high,
A gift by our father that was simply a lie.

Eight little cakes that will keep our souls whole,
Oh how we wished we knew what these cakes would in toll.
A lifetime of doubt, frustration and pain,
The boys in the mirror looks back to us in shame.

Eight little cakes that remind us of hell,
Oh how we dream to be ringing freedom’s big bell.
In boyhood we ate pleasurable things,
Leading to men that cope with what addiction brings.

Eight little cakes swallowed by trusting toys,
Oh how you have been responsible for us boys.
And now your gone, but your shadow remains,
We wonder, will we ever get out of our shame?

Eight little cakes sitting there in a row.
The gifts of our father that poisoned his boys slow.