Not long ago, I felt lost.
Lingering in clouds of so much star dust.
The rain was coming down.
The cloud was only over my own head.

It took me so long to finally see.
That star dust I thought I was lingering in
is me.
So today, I found myself,

*It's feels quite serene.

The dogs days are dreaming of staying awake,
Barking at the singers, lulling them back to dream state.
The leaves are falling from the trees,
trying to climb back up to where they belong.
A Cathedrals bells are ringing,
but nobody seems to be home.

The roads are empty and the wind is silent,
Trees are dying and the cold is rising.
Lies are finding ears and taking root in minds,
My puppet strings are cut,
but someone's still tugging my hope.

*Oh, have you seen my hope around?

I'm on my knees, and they are sinking deeply into the mud.
My hands clasped tight, my knuckles bruised and chalk white
This prayer is not for the god I do not believe in,
but for man, that exists so clearly.

For the seas of corporate depression.
My own, weary bones.
Corrupt with the stories the television has told.
Our minds are no longer our own. Confusing ourselves for an image to be upheld.

Placing weight in feathers instead of stones.

Please heed my words, and take the time to figure you out.

Born where money is king over our own dying trees.
Greed is the only color green we even see anymore.
We place our love and loyalty into a system that is loveless.
Because we were told to.

I pray that some of us wake from this induced slumber,
we shake our a coma and become the giants we are.
To live among the air without taking from it.
To make strides to just get better, and expect nothing for it.

*To be human...
In a time of machines

Today I change with the atmosphere,
I'll swell up with infinite different pressures pushing.
I'll sprout out of my head,
Like the daring oak, just to see how close

I get to the sun.

To touch it with my own hands,
to burn with the celestial star in the heavens.
To drown out the blackness,
That goes on forever...

To see the light just one time
*before I die.

i am drunk
and that doesn't make
me a poet
the cockroaches are
callin'
cause they know
they cant
die
the cigarette ash is
burning too close to
the ****
i'm snuffing
the heart
outta my own
soul
burning my own finger
tips
and the mountains are callin'
their own code
i cant smoke marijuana
but the dream is
dead free
the landslide is
callin'
draggin' my dreams with
the land