Oh, what a suit;
what fine noble thread,
below blinding pearly whites
and such a nice hair of head.

"Lose a little now to gain twice as much later.
Don't be a dope," (schmuck, fool, sucker.)
That's what he said through sharpened teeth.
I should've known better than to believe a single thing.

A wolf invited himself inside and talked me into buying his sheepskin suit, but it turns out that he was a fox disguised as a wolf in sheep's clothing, and so I bought the wolf's skin too.

"A two-for-one deal,
whaddaya say?"


I can't believe I fell for a walking cliché.

I recognized those hands
Thin and bony
Slender
Harsh and tender
Around mine

Travels, a train
Dusk, dawn
In and out and away we went

We were something fierce
Something young, wild and restless
Breathing in
The air was all you
Fleeting

I remember the fire
The storms inside
Those churning, revolving wild waves
Dazzling displays of falling from great heights

I remember those hands
Wrapped in mine
I remember how we clawed to be near
Tearing away all the spaces between us
Until what was left was only
Wholly you and me

Take control,
On this journey to soothe the soul
Into the Unknown, to a world you call your own
Where have you been?
To a place only I could have seen

What’s a light beer to a heavy mind?
A reward for accomplishing nothing.

Nothing but the empty glare on the tv
Accomplishing nothing.
no Work, no Labor, no Action

A wasted day.
Sunny.
But wasted.

It all started with a light beer, yesterday.
A reward for an ambitious day.
mostly Work with some Action
and little Labor.

A relaxing day.
Sunny.
But I was wasted.

Now I’m drinking four cold ones.
It’s all I have left, anyway.

Everything will be alright
These frightening thoughts won't live past tonight
You'll wake up in the morning and feel . . .
Whole again

So when you feel that noose getting tight
When the shadows obstruct your view of the light
Just lay down and go to sleep
And when you wake
Everything will be bright

This moment you're stuck in
Will not last forever
There will be a tomorrow
And it'll make you feel better

But there's a chance that it won't
The trick is to hope
If you go to bed knowing that you'll feel empty tomorrow
Then don't

You'll wake up in the morning and realize
That you have no friends
You'll wake up in the morning and think
That you have to start all over again
You'll wake up in the morning and wish
That you'd rather be dead

But still everything will be alright
You'll grow accustomed to this empty life
You'll wake up in the morning and feel . . .
That hole again

So when that fiend comes to trap you
And you struggle ensnared
And you scream out your soul to find somebody who cares
You'll hear your own echo come back
And realize that nobody's there

Nothing ever will be alright
You've ****** up real good
Permanently this time
Spend forever in the void to repent for this crime

But this time is an illusion
And this void is made up
I am cause I am
And that one thought is enough
Everything will be alright
Because everything is what you're made of

Sometimes I tap my cigarette in time to the syllables of the numbers nine through twelve.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone knows what the hell I'm talking about.
So I walk around outside to try to understand my mind
just to get lost on a journey and leave it all behind.
If you could join me, I'd show you all of the lights.
The ones with deep meaning that make everything all right.
But it's times like these that I'd rather be by myself:
Nine, Ten, E-lev-en, Twelve.

As a kid I always lived inside of my head.
Backyard battles with demons were always so vivid.
One time I stuck a bunch of duck feathers into the back of my shirt.
I ran around the pool jumping -
just trying to leave Earth.

As I grew up, I maintained my thirst for adventure.
Fell in love with facing fears -
succumbed to a lust for danger.
Always trying to disprove my doubts.
Nine, Ten, E-lev-en, Twelve.

Fell into doing drugs and developed a taste.
Having fun with a new crowd.
Learned to deal with disgrace,
but sometimes I'd catch my reflection in a mirror
and couldn't recognize my own face.

But all the while coming closer to achieving my dreams.
Knowing one day I'd fly away on my wings.
Came to find out the true nature of the place that I dwell.
An angel can't fly when he's trapped down in hell.

Nine, Ten, E-lev-en, Twelve.

Do you ever wonder about secret agents?
How they behaved when they were young?
Did they have troubled childhoods?
Were they not properly loved?
Did they have a lot of practice with resisting lust?
Did they learn the hard way that there's no one you can trust?

Do you ever wonder about rock stars,
and what makes them so rabid?
Did they recognize their own potential,
but couldn't fight those filthy habits?
All of that anger for their parents, ex-lovers, and friends.
Did they take a trip to hell only to find out that it never ends?
Did that anger actually stem from a disappointment with themselves?

And what about the lonely who never find Someone Else?
Did they all partake on a journey to find their self?
Did they hate the answer?
Did they get no results?
Did they get stuck in a tunnel then couldn't crawl their way out?
Maybe they just never found anyone who could deal with the depth of their faults.

I'm in a chrysalis stage:
still developing into an adult.
All of the mistakes I've made -
their lessons are being retained.
It's all preparation and training.
One day I'll be great.
You don't have to believe me,
but just you wait.