Stuck IN A Moment

Here I stand,
With my musical rock band,
Along the coastland,
Leading to the entrance of ``DREAMLAND``
This stop was unplanned,
As our tour bus crashed into a swampland,
We got off the bus and I scanned,
At first all I saw was sand,
To my left was a nuclear toxic wasteland,
And,
To my right a huge farmland,
With a shady patch of a grassland,
With my left-hand,
I signalled a stagehand,
To gather food from the farmer’s farmland,
But minutes later he was canned,
By a senior farmer with an active sweat gland,
He dropped our buddy in his homemade quicksand,
And now I had seen Death firsthand,
We were at the rand,
Nearing the exit point from Thailand,
Our chances were pretty bland,
We all were trapped in this land,
With no way to withstand,
The cane of the workhand,
Who killed my brother the stagehand.1


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