Beneath the dull-flat paper sky.
The sun, pierced hot, like a demon's eye
glowed through the air--hot barren land, only
wandering sounds and footsteps in the sand.
The punishing gossip of white heat, with neither
progression nor retreat.
And shuddering by the noonday light,
humming ash lay stiff, dead, and white

Then through the night…

The waxing moon come slyly in
and reflects my darkest- cruelest sin.
Then underneath my wayward-veiled eyes
Aluminum Pinwheels in which the darkness hides

With powder on my mummys face,
Blindly dusting, I found our place.

But when we met, you lost all your choices..
And with our eye contact, we both lost our voices..

The piercing wind whistled…that deadly and eerie song,
but it covered up the screaming…
…And the beating
In the fog

Suffocation has taken on a painful new meaning
my throat twitches when I try to go to sleep as I’m dreaming.

The Hollow Men live somewhere,

Between the idea and the reality
Between mouth movements and  sentences
Between conception and creation
Between desire and regret
Between admiration and possesion
Between the image and the talent

they Live somewhere

In this last of string vibrations
they are somewhere humming now

their hands release, perceptions bend,
...try not to fill the Hollow Men

It's dinner time, and old friends arrive-
the guests are here for you.

The damaged minds of many.
The open hearts of few.

They can never lose that after taste from when the food was soothing.
You’ll  remember them from those good ol’ days..... when we used to live for music.

I used to follow silver tape, back stage, remember me?
Did Heavy Metal live up to all we hoped that it could be?

Same dinner party.....same song…… and in your ears that same loud ringing

But now the bread is hard…. and everyone stopped singing.

My memories are blurry, and everythings gone faster.

Blue jean baby, take the pictures
Tell the stories

Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer.

I was half boring, and never so innocent.
Never before, and never since the day I felt you growing.
But with each moment of gnawing pressure
my ribs will quiver and ache.

My skin feels ripped and with every kick
I realize.
I let you stay in here too long.

The silverback beast can never be tamed in some
tangled pink web of nerves and veins.
The difference between a nest and a cage
is Time.
And thats why you will always prefer your father.

Protect my spine and respect my pride,
when you rattle my ribs, when you hear me cry.

I know it will be different, if I only try.
Another punishment unique to women.