The noose of ego hangs around my neck
Tied to a stone of despair
Thinking I can do something I can't
And the rock rolls off the wicked hills
Of drugs and liquor
weighing me down
Until the illicit substances take hold
And I can fly for a few hours
But when the sun is reflected into my window
And my alarm bleats out its melody
I wake up with the noose a bit tighter
And the rock a bit bigger
I know the story of Icarus
And I'm scared about what will happen
When the rock is to heavy

Okay so if I like ******* die right now
I'm sorry I disappointed you dad

find yourself in the space between birth and death
malignant sense of self
like a tumorous fold in your side
time and money
years and stocks
driving us to abandon ourselves
and drown in our collectiveness abandonment
But I think my problem is
I found someone else's sense of self
and viewing the world
through eyes that never really felt
like the belonged to me

Destroy the barriers you out in place
to become free
destruction allows you to create more
and creation allows you to destroy more
infinite spirals fill the night sky
our brains are star maps of the universe
god killed himself and put himself into us
and all psychologist talk about a separation
between who you are and who people know you to be
destroy the wall between those two
and create something god would be proud of
and so we can come together as a species
and envelop existence

Combine a volatile mixture of ego
And the ability to work just a little bit harder
And you get a generation
Of people who value what they can do
More than what they should do
Where stuff
Money
The ******* pieces of art hanging in the walls
Are more important
When you look a man in the eye
Than what you see looking back at you
Do you think you could **** a man?
Knowing you'd be saving him from so much
And shaming him to never be saved
Do you think you could still pull the trigger while he pleaded for you to stop?
Would you feel responsible for the rush of a will to live when take the gun away?
You *******
That wasn't supposed to be the way it was
Every single person I've met has told me
Part of growing up is accepting what you can't change
Well Mr. Full of **** and vinegar
You've done enough accepting for the both of us

Sulking willows line the drive
Sounds like a great line
For one of those poetic sad stories
And that's the line
Some guys estranged son will say
Pulling into the house after hearing the news
And I could say something about the darkness inside everyone's soul
Or maybe something about how happy endings don't happen often enough
But then I'd be lying
If I didn't tell you that I am nothing

I'm an entitled oxford-esque *******
I'm white, wealthy, and have a family
Who made money by running businesses
And I can't forgive myself
For being born into this
But this isn't about white guilt
This is about the way
The parents and family
Of this entitled pseudo-intellectual
And how the mom gets angry
At the dad for not giving her enough money
To buy a drink in a gas station
Because although no one says it
She'll take any extra money and use it
For her gambling addiction
And how the mother gets angry
At the daughter for spending to much
(How can one not choke on the irony?)
And not being responsible
And how the father
Doesn't know what to do
As he sold the business
And just wants to make money
And his daughter is bringing home
A boyfriend who they all hate
Merry ******* Christmas