I have heard your stories of clay feet,
I guess you think you'll bring me to my knees!

Well, you can just always say that
But I just think it's cheap!

But... you were just warning me
The heavy head, the doom I hide or sell
And mocking is so easy to decry,
When I laugh astride of hell!

So if anything's ever funny,
I'm not too sure you'd take it well...

But still. I have heard your stories of clay feet.
Why me, why me?
Why does any one of us have to crumble,
And why does anyone have to take the lead?

I guess we just became round,
I guess we just have a need.

So yes they will resent you
Hate will come shooting out
And yes they understand
As love just abounds!
And yes you will seem stupid
Because we never figured it out.
But you are insanely brilliant,
No, you're not a clown!
And yes it's quite the burden
With many shades of grey
And yes it's sometimes easy
We love you and you're gay!
And yes they la la la la
But no it da da da
And yes you ba ba bada
And no sha sha sha sha

His cautious head is lowered
The scrawny grey wolf watches
And waits his turn

Big brothers are feeding,
He knows not to interrupt.

But he can't see that in his brainstem
Telling his heart to beat
That is where the big wolves are
And he is on the side of a kaleidoscope.

But he doesn't know that he'd go in between
Look for ways to save wolf meat
And all the bucks with their snarled teeth

So he mutates all his leaves
And liquifies his spirit
Summons his chemistry from crystal water molecules.

So he sheds his skin and follows breaks in symmetry
So he varies locally
And complexifies

So he radiates anew
So he watch the spirits run
And he saves the wolf meat,
He no eat.

What if your sense
Of wanting satisfaction
Was tied
To the means by which you'd achieve it?

What if I knew you wanted to win,
And both meant to let you down on that point
But also had nothing to do with your failure?

What if the chemicals of your brain
And its physiology
Were truly rigged against you? For you? Both,
At the same time,
and neither?

What if I'm tired of listening to how bored you are,
When I know the horrors you'll face?
What if I'm capable of things you will never be capable of,
No matter how hard you tried?

What if I'm always worthy,
And you have to accept you're lucky we give you anything?

Let's talk about the way it's been
Elusive and my wagging tongue
Is muted behind clicking teeth
With fingers finding quick release

So strange, and strange sensation comes
Awareness of the deep conflict
A writhing dance I keep inside
Cause you can't be that good at math.

You can't be that good at math.

And after everything goes down,
Where will hesitation go?
With remorse and empathy
Right out the window
Well I'm waiting for the day
The defenestration comes
I'll never know how much you loved me
Guess nirvana's really dumb

And you
Can't really be that good at math.
No, you
Can't really be that good at math.
We got problems, honey
Bigger than the place that we come from
You can't be that good at math
You can't be the only one

I am the providence of meaning
My thoughts are like kites on the wind

I'm tied to the moonlit shoreline

Waves rearrange the sand,
Agitating it
Sharing whale songs with the clams
And leaving little foam gifts.

Those purple clouds are far away but they are real,
You could fly through them as a bird,
Swoop down and skim the waves with your feet

My thoughts are like moonlit kites
My thoughts are like the nighttime gulls
Dark blue, navy blue
With purple clouds and ***** of light
My strings are taut
And my skin is flecked with salt,

Goodnight!

Stretcher of horizons,
Hear my hollowed call
Scoff at the notion your hands are mine,
That these hands are mine
And how many hands is the horizon wide?

As I lift my eyes to see
Another one lays down their head to sleep
As I drink the plastics down
The plastic fills the sea
Plastic, which would make sense.
And as one of my cells undergoes apoptosis
An innocent soul is deceased.

But convenient, how convenient for you
That even though I know what apoptosis is--
A rare piece of knowledge to find in some random person 's repertoire
That i would not be afforded some kind of great prize for my knowledge,
That i should have to live as I do,
Small and appreciated in ways that wrinkle my nose
As the other half of me cringes and admonishes not to complain too much
Lest we forget the vibrant tones the virtuoso singer of reality played within our cortex just today.

And how strange it is, that even if I were afforded some great prize,
Well what is the danger in that?
Are we scared that it would not be enough
To ward off the suffering?
How many hoarded memories can we pile up before they collapse in on themselves,
Causing the faerie guardians of the Earth to lose their minds in a frenzied panic,
Causing all the ghosts of the dead to bemoan the futility of my private existence,
Rupturing Spirit itself, which howls like a lost wind at the edges of the universe,
Spiraling out of control and so far from the warmth of life,
Forced to be a stranger to itself in the grand scheme of nothingness,
To which it can tell it is intrinsically linked?

How many memories?

Well, as it turns out,
We got quite a lot,
But they're not all good.

And many of them are sort of just alright.

It's almost like we were rendering something grandiose
But bit off more than we could chew,
And our computer crashed two-thirds of the way through
And so much of what we intended to be rendered was corrupted,
Like I was misused and abused.

But by who? As I waste my time,
Thinking it a feat?

Is there anyone else to take the blame but myself?

For all the world's sins!? No, surely not, are you insane!
your sins, your sins, my child
You say,
Are all I ask you to atone for.

And even that is just a matter of perspective,
Maybe you believe in science.
But science just means knowledge and at this point I think you understand.

Don't put yourself on a pedestal,
Or inadvertently dream up a pedestal and find yourself atop it,
Get blamed for that,
And tear yourself down.

Now it's falling apart again.

We're only in this for the rotation.
Stand ready for automatic accusations,
Yes you made excuses yes they will jump out of your mouth.

Maybe they will never come,
Maybe it was just the feeling they would.

Automatic, all of it,
Can't take the pain away.
Why must we do this to ourselves?
No, we aren't, it's some other party some outside force
The universe
No it's not me
Not me
Not me

The Experience is mad at itself
Because it takes up its own space
Accusations fly
Like swine through melting skies

Don't harbor a bad reaction