these days: a subverse thought

3.31.04 has opened the door to many who implore just where my thoughts soar

The days have indeed grown dark and weary since those of old,
For abject sailors perhaps may sail many a sea too bold,
But never see the consequence for which one should behold,
For in the dead of darkened night the wind blows rank and cold;

Damp and dreadful yes indeed these moments tarry may,
But soon the sun will break anon and chase the night away;
For solemntude for many a dude ensued platoon da schway,
Except the nude freak rude and crude shouts in the mood "make way!"

The eye has opened to my head
Offer me a chance instead
To make reparations for the dead
Else slaughtered by a native sled

We heard the news and bought the ruse that Robin Reed hath weaved
Out popped the tooths into the hues bright green soon red and grey
Whoever thought that sleds of naught could reck a life so quay
In light of day when bricks are layed in place of fortified graves
For who would guess that in my quest this doom so quickly come
The time had wrought a silmarilis from my severed thumb
If ever light may find the blight that eats and drinks my rum
The Kendall of this darkened pessimistic nightmare's bum must drum
Hum dee dum, On decaying portions of my flesh and bone
To tell me who I am.

-Don Townsend

p.s.- Tell me if you can make any sense of this.