his name was John Doe,
he'd disappeared,
been gone for a year or so
no one dare speak his name
for the demon who stole him
is wholly who they blame
yet what they can't recall
is the green cap
and the green shawl
the energetic complexion
that covers my shoulders
the one they show little affection
the hues they claim sickly
plague their thoughts
wishing they could forget quickly
the boy I was
the mischievous soul
is dead between the wide jaws
the man who finally stood up
the one who killed a boy
held his tears in a cup
for, I am Peter Pan
the boy who's done no wrong
the boy with a mere plan
for, he is hook
a devilishly evil man
the one who should take a page from my book
the same man who should know he's wrong
for, death is the true answer
for, my line of devils is truely long
yet, I am no demon,
I am no evil
I am the mere epitome of pure freedom
I do as I wish
kill those I please
mark those names upon my list
neverland is no hell
it is the true home of anarchy
a story that no ones willing to tell
join us in the home of the lawless
the home in which you do as you please
or Pan could always leave you loveless
your ways are useful for my men
your insanity is just perfect for the land
let's just add that final Y with the pen
—we'll need you, wendy
fin
