Today I stared at The Scream
And am proud to say,
I understand what it means.
Seconds,
Days,
Minutes,
Nights.
The Scream represents
Immortal life.

And who really wants to live
To be one hundred years old?
To see the world they know,
slowly go?

I've seen Death,
on multiple occasions...
He tells me it's okay
To feel this sort of pain.
Deep down it burns,
but it cools my skin.
Your words...
Unable to keep me in.

And who really wants to live
To be one hundred years old?
When there's nothing to do,
but grow cold?

Gently pour your tears on my eyes.
The feeling is great.
It reminds me of the sky,
Like your hair reminded me
of being naive.
These feelings are mine,
As you stab me in my side.

And who really wants to live
To be one hundred years old?
Memories still in mind;
What torment for every burning soul.

Am I really
The air that you breathe?
'Cuz I'm ready
To see the truth behind your lies.
I'm still dreading
When they shape into your eyes.
I've yet to shed a tear.

Bleeding tongues,
Burning hands...
That sound still hurts my head.
A click of the hammer,
My dreams will spill out,
This is my answer
To my questions of doubt.

Take away
That tone in your voice.
Shake me awake when you go;
For I long
To be
Close to you.

She cries out to her god
She begs him to come.
I'm sorry my dear
But,
Bleeding tongues,
Burning hands,
That sound still lingers
In the back of my head.
I hope you realize your god is dead.

Your savior is gone.
Look at yourself,
Eating your cancer,
Showering me with
Pain that I know.
That fear in your heart
Is what keeps me around.

Your savior is nowhere,
Hiding in the clouds.
Please grasp this message
And look towards the ground.
The only thing you need,
Is the hope in your fear,
Now turn around, breathe
and face me my dear...

I still wonder
About the past.
I'm sure most of us do.
Quite cliche of my like to say,
I still wonder
About the past.  

Conflicted, knowing friends won't change.
Jaded by relationships,
As I watch them all fade.
Calmed by smoke, more than fire.
Hard to find inspiration,
Out of things that won't transpire.  

Although the glass is half empty
(sometimes half full),
Why has no one questioned,
Who made a glass so dull?
Because glass cups never were,
Before man made it so.

Where did all that water come from?
Where will it all go?
Like memories that make up life
Paint lemons shades of bold.

It's another night where I feel
Like I need someone to understand me.

I can't contemplate any
More of my life.
I've tried to live, I've tried to die...
I'm still so cold inside.

I"m bitter, I'm bored.
I'm lonely, I'm sore.
I'm crying, I'm trying.
I'm lying and I'm sick of it.

Can we all just stop?  
Why can't we stop?
Will we just stop...

This pointless existence
Faced for masses,
Yet blinded by adversity
And wills of actions.

Can we all just stop?
Why can't we stop?
Will we just stop existing?

I have.