Map the words to deny, deny the symptoms, as 'oh yeah I'm doing fine', as I've found a most endearing psychosis.
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Somewhere out there there's a thrill I swear. Desperate as I am I just can't strip bare and bleed the only purity I've known.
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But I lay with reason. Found logic concieved in a walk with skin. I sleep with reason producing these monsters.
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Under painted catcalls as in temptation. yeah there's a key to be in, but there's no shade, no shade to blame.
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Waterfalls in a cool grey, and the struggle is colored grey this day. The caw of crows fills up the picture plane.
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Our picture plane is veiled in central neutral grey. Absinthe to slight the pain. This world's this worst case color scheme.
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Streaks of oil stain, stained the road he crawled on homeward.
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Oh yeah, oh yeah he threw the switch, with some unwieldy gauge, absence of light remains.
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I lay with reason so logic can reap in a walk with sin. El sueno razon produce monsinios.
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When does this dream end? Now I've missed another whole season,
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I've missed the fall, clearly its fallen on this land as fields once green are ochre now.
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This is no dream. Trees have turned to skeleton, roots teased and knotted just below the surface skin of ground.
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Stitched between the earth and the sky struggling to hold it down.
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Sometimes to realize you have to lose track, lose track of sight blurring my vision makes it clear that tiny moving parts make up the whole.
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The image is clear, a tower is built of my own pride, I cry in the shade that if offers, the only shelter I have.
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When does this dream end? This is no dream. This is the waking living breathing caricature of a memory.
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Shamelessly I cave in to temptation of creation. But still my only thrill is empty sidewalks, silent streets.
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The caw of crows fills up the picture plane. This is your picture plain in central neutral grey.
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This world's this worst case color scheme. Streaks of oil stain, stained the road he crawled on homeward.
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Oh yeah, oh yeah he killed the switch with some unwieldy gauge, absence of light remains.
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Life is lowly anonymity, in death a noble pose, a Marat David.
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Tell me who wouldn't give their lives for such a soap box to die behind. Life is lowly, lowly anonymity.
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In the space of a smile I found sleep. As in sorrow, so shall ye reap, as in reason so shall ye sleep.
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Reap the promised end to the struggle. Reap every point on our linear path.
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Reap the smiles in time we borrow, every harvest relies on the last.
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Reap the promising song of the sparrow, that they learned from the birth of sea.
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Silenced by the threnody of the crows. Reap the fallen fruit of the dogwood tree.
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But I witnessed in all this silence one souls definition of beauty. and a backlit smile so temporary.
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A facade so rich with evil history. Cast in direct opposition set to overwhelm this moment to shine and sleep-
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came out on top of what was borrowed, and found all that beauty to be still.
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Every breath as in sorrow, reap the promised end to this path, by every image that we borrow, every harvest depends on the past.
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Subdivide in factions our linear parabola, we subdivide our waking hours to sleep.
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While guilty eyes turn toward a porchlight, enlightenment is losing sight.
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Somewhere out there there's a thrill I swear. In this low light town when my shift begins the streets reflecting yellow, yellow, yellow in the vacancy that overwhelms the red, red, red, your vehicle the color of expansion.
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"Open up." the latter just a thought to thrill me "knock knock knock" the latter just a thought to thrill me.
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"Red" is a four letter word. Four letter invitation. Now my head is locked in the direction of the sun...
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Life is lowly anonymity, in death a noble prose, a Marat David.
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Tell me who wouldn't give their lives for such a soap box to leave behind.
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Life is lowly, lowly anonymity. I know its all been done before, I want to do it again. I want do it again.
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Kill the switch.
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This night our journey's through the dark.
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Kill the switch, a welcome comatose, tonight we journey through the darkness.
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