turned out
At one of those points, where you trip over words
Spilling, your thoughts, but nothing is really caught in the drain
Just a reminissent pain, and a slight fracture, of the man
You used to be, almost broken, yet almost free and I'm chasing
Almost erasing you, from my mind, and I dont know how I find
All this time to write, when at night, I cant sleep
And yet there is nothing, to keep me from from my dreams
I'm wondering what this is all about, or who, or where or when
I'm not really sure where I am going with all this, I just wish
I knew what was making my mind at unrest, and the best
I can come up with this, is, a little bit of everything, seems to bring
Me down, and around the corner, almost there, still unaware
Of what destiny has in mind, for me to find, must i suffer
The trials of Geisha, only to relate to the, love, I'm so unaware of
I let these minutes trickle down my fingers, linger accross letters
that were better, unput together, yet they weather my abuse
In their use to give you these words, so I hope their suffering
Was well worth it in the end, my friends, when I let them go
And can no longer go back and and delete them.
A break in my mind deserves a break in the line of my thoughts
I've drawn the line, now I just have to find the time to pick it up
Put it up my nose, or as close to my mouth as I can get
Without getting wet, in the drool of a fool searching, researching
For nothing, short of being, empty, I want thee to understand we
But I feel, a little less real each day and each way we go it's like
We know that nothing can save us from the grave, so we slave
And slave away the day, hoping in a way they will make us stay
Frozen, unabsolved and unabashed, until we clash like two electrons, frozen, in molton lava, about to burst, Our thirst ,
For life, has been brought under the knife, plastic surgery
Is our surgery, saving, or enslaving us to the culture, Counterculture, subculture, no culture, just vultures
Tearing at our bones, so that our children can build their own
Lives, without guns and knives, tearing at their backs, stacks
Of the dead, have fed the ground we now walk apon, the sound
Of life, of life, your life, my life, life, life, life, shout shout
Get it all out.
Spilling, your thoughts, but nothing is really caught in the drain
Just a reminissent pain, and a slight fracture, of the man
You used to be, almost broken, yet almost free and I'm chasing
Almost erasing you, from my mind, and I dont know how I find
All this time to write, when at night, I cant sleep
And yet there is nothing, to keep me from from my dreams
I'm wondering what this is all about, or who, or where or when
I'm not really sure where I am going with all this, I just wish
I knew what was making my mind at unrest, and the best
I can come up with this, is, a little bit of everything, seems to bring
Me down, and around the corner, almost there, still unaware
Of what destiny has in mind, for me to find, must i suffer
The trials of Geisha, only to relate to the, love, I'm so unaware of
I let these minutes trickle down my fingers, linger accross letters
that were better, unput together, yet they weather my abuse
In their use to give you these words, so I hope their suffering
Was well worth it in the end, my friends, when I let them go
And can no longer go back and and delete them.
A break in my mind deserves a break in the line of my thoughts
I've drawn the line, now I just have to find the time to pick it up
Put it up my nose, or as close to my mouth as I can get
Without getting wet, in the drool of a fool searching, researching
For nothing, short of being, empty, I want thee to understand we
But I feel, a little less real each day and each way we go it's like
We know that nothing can save us from the grave, so we slave
And slave away the day, hoping in a way they will make us stay
Frozen, unabsolved and unabashed, until we clash like two electrons, frozen, in molton lava, about to burst, Our thirst ,
For life, has been brought under the knife, plastic surgery
Is our surgery, saving, or enslaving us to the culture, Counterculture, subculture, no culture, just vultures
Tearing at our bones, so that our children can build their own
Lives, without guns and knives, tearing at their backs, stacks
Of the dead, have fed the ground we now walk apon, the sound
Of life, of life, your life, my life, life, life, life, shout shout
Get it all out.