Right, it gets pretty good
But it's still not what you wanted
And you're alone
Forced to compromise
Oh, you're always such a whiner.

It gets pretty good, trust me
You will learn to love your work
But I don't want this bittersweet
Reality you gave me

I am forced, by fear, to love you
And I'm the only one here dreaming.

And you got me so excited
As a kid, I felt invited

But you knew where it would get us
In this predetermined future
And you kept it from the child
Knowing he'd be disappointed

I trust that it gets better
But it's still not what I wanted
Wasted 20's
Broken dreams
And the forces stir up demons

Who will never understand
How they're just properties emergent
And life is bleak
And God is lame, capable of all things

Throw two stones into still water
And watch the ripples sing:
Where two waves meet
They grow higher

And the valleys deepening.

But when a valley finds a wave,
The surface stays the same
Just like we started
Stagnant water
That did not know how to sing

The shattered moon
This wake of light
Has crashed upon the Earth's rough skin

The trial of the sun
It has no judge
No heavy eyes

The shattered moon
The broken arms
Of good intention, love and charm

As broken angels
With ingrown horns
Go back and forth in broken light

It isn't done,
But when it is
You will be the precipice
My precious light
Will you decide
To leave yourself and be a guide?

For all
The glory
I've known

And for all
The glory
I'll know?

For all that glory
I'll go
And I will die
I'll make it right
I'll be the moon
I'll be the moon

Farewell to progress,
Your vestiges remain intact.
I'll lend my ***** visage to finality,
The gods of fate and chance.

You can blame me.
I know where that started,
I can tell you the story.

I'd stand trial and tell you.
You'd call me sick.
You'd pray for my suffering.

I didn't want these distortions to exist.
But I really understand where each illness comes from.
I could tell you.

I could explain it to you.

I have intuitive understanding
Even medical information that comes newly
Even learning of catastrophes in history
It comes with epistemological little tags
I see the angels in each instance
An over-arching structure

To a certain extent these things contradict themselves, but ultimately
We do have a certain shape and definition
By the time this is over, yes
We have a very specific shape
The only shape
No it does not go on forever
But technically yes it does

But no... there are no Star Wars happening here.

Whether it is perfect or the most horrible thing
That depends on the moment
I can tell you where each of these sufferings come from
But my answers might be strange

Being your mother isn't easy--
You never would believe me.
The branches of the trees that hold
That cradle, and my baby.

And I'm a man who has to know it
But won't speak up to try and show it
Because I have reservations
The truth is strange sometimes, we know that.

And so layers deep, careening
We start to understand the meaning
But we all have different pieces
And reject the things that hurt.

But in inherent association
We call our God a Satan
And the system can't exist
Without the flames of hell escaping.

But maybe the meaning is ultimately nothing.

Gaiety's a sin
We like it in the iron maiden
Anything, at any point
From some angle
Draws the ire

On that point we're more solid
You know, I'll always be your girlfriend
just technically speaking
But any future jabs you make
Seem false. Yes, I seek impunity.

I feel I may be overreacting--
Maybe a dose of paranoia?
Because if I'm just slowly melting
Maybe offense has dissolved also

But maybe I should be committed,
Or, maybe I should be committed
Give my tongue to the cat
Unless--
She's dead and solenoidal