There was a man,
He went to market;
the market was shut;
he went home.

There was a man,
about whom it was said,
that he was near enough,
but could get no nearer.

When Hamlet was young,
All was good,
Elsinore was proud,
Hamlet was young,
Ophelia too.  

Now he is older,
Not everything is good,
Some things still are,
His uncle is his father in law,
This is not so good.  

Now he is dead,
Ophelia is dead,
Laertes is dead,
Gertrude is dead,
Cladius is dead,
Yorick... is dead,
but he was at the start,
so he doesn't count.  
Rosen... Guilden... dead
Old hamlet is dead,
Plonius is dead.
Horatio is alive;
can't imagine he's very happy,
because everyone else is dead.

Laurence Olivier is handsome,
he's dead too.

For he liked her,
And she he;
But it had to end.
They both were in love
With melancholy.

That
Self-Made
Noose
Is
Living proof
Of our
Existence.

O come in time;
Bring the wine.
A friend you'll be,
A friend to me.

Or take your time;
Forget the wine.
Just stay with me,
Just bleed.

a hen
a doe
a tree
a catharsis
...
a Shay Healy
...
...
a knee
Ah Chew!

Don't rely on tunnel vision,
the ephemeral illusion.
Take of the blinkers
and see with peripheral vision.

There is more to the definitive space we occupy,
the small world we simply exist in.
I insist we be hurled from this world,
But we resist.

Unprepared to be thrown
into the cyclone.
Scared of the unknown.
Yet,
we yearn for it
for the obscure and foreign.
Yearning for more than this.
Questioning why be secure with what we know?

We think we know everything now,
Everything within the space
of this limited place.
Yet,
we reckon there has to be more than this,
waiting beyond the door.
Wanting to be explored
and not ignored.

You'll never know unless you try
to pry into the unknown.
You could find your identify
by looking at life in it's entirety.

If you focus straight, you might miss something.
Our planet is round, not flat.
So take the blinkers off
and blink in everything at once.

T'is unfair for those
Who have never felt morose or
Uncomposed
To blame or shame the lives
that have been.
For it was their choice,
Leave them be.
I hope you would not be the same
About me.

For a few choose to leave this earth,
But most of us are dead from birth.
For either way it was their choice,
Leave them be.
I hope you would not be the same
About me.

We should salute those who do it,
For they have gone through with it.
Us here waiting, waiting.
Waiting still, waiting to get ill.
For it was their choice,
Leave them be.
I hope you would not be the same
About me.

If I were to make that choice,
Do not proclaim what I could have been,
Or that you never could have seen
The pain.
'Cause you could, and you did.
For it's anyone's choice,
Leave them be.
I wonder would you be the same
If it were me?