Each passing day brings me closer to the date,
Where we'll plaster happy smiles and pretend to celebrate.
Have I done something great? Is that why we're here?
Or are we really celebrating the passing of another year?
One year, 52 weeks or 365 days,
It's just an excuse, a corporate cliché.

But don't worry, there's no need to celebrate,
Each day brings me closer to my own ****** fate.
HEY, it's my birthday!
& when it passes, it'll just be another day...

Trailing behind are my lost teen years,
No Mama, I still haven't conquered my fears.
Don't worry, there's still some life behind these eyes,
I never did understand the celebration of the fact time flies.
With masked faces surrounding my 20 candles of lies,
It's hard to tell what goes on in this light
With the flickers of the candles, tricking my sight.
Am I blowing out the candles?
Or am I blowing out my mind?

Don't bother now, there's no time to celebrate,
Love can't save me from my own ****** fate.
HEY, it's my birthday!
& when it passes, it'll just be another wasted day...

It's a crumpled piece of paper,
laid littered on the floor.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
that people chose to ignore.

It's a crumpled piece of paper,
that showed she did once care.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
explaining she was broken beyond repair.

It's a crumpled piece of paper,
laid littered on the floor.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
that people chose to ignore.

And it's my crumpled piece of paper,
that was lost and never found.
This crumpled piece of paper,
that's now six feet below the ground.

My name is Sam,
don't know who I am.
The world keeps spinning round&round;&round;&round; &,

People telling me what's my plan.
Their lips keep moving up&down;&up;&down; &,
I can't seem to hear a sound,
My world is spinning round&round;&up;&down; &,

Why can't I seem to find a way?
Without there being a fine price to pay &,
Why can't you just hear me out?
Without there being tears&shouts;&fears;&doubt;; &,

What's wrong with me today?
My emotions stalled, it just won't say, I cannot say &,
I can't stop these pools of tears,
falling down my face, skin's going clear &,

My world's now crashing I cannot see,
Just exactly what it is You want me to Be.

Feel a gaping hole,
Located center-fold.
Nothing seems out of place,
Except for our long-lost chaste.

Eden has come and gone,
Yet here we remain in throngs.
Confused by our own existence,
We look for God’s assistance.

Unknown emotions start stirring,
A transformation is occurring.
Metamorphosing into man-made monsters,
Dropping bombs onto unknowing youngsters.

Feel a gaping hole,
Located center-fold.
Nothing seems out of place,
Except for God’s long lost embrace.

Eden’s now a myth,
Telling of Man’s zenith.
Unsure of our own existence,
We turn to Pain’s assistance.

Catalytic events annihilate Man’s innocence,
GOD HELP US! We can’t find the cure to this pestilence.
Race against race,
Man against man,
Child against child,
The innocent cadavers are still being piled.

Feel a gaping hole,
Located center-fold.
Nothing seems out of place,
Except for our disintegrating face.

A little bit lost and a little bit blue,
Oh the things memories can do to you.

A little bit torn and a little bit used,
Oh how the Present can feel like abuse.

A little bit shaken and a little bit bruised,
Oh how my Future seems constantly confused.

A little bit tired and a little more gaunt,
Oh how the Past is all I'll ever want.

Slow sips of cyanide, to complete my sweet suicide.
Adamant about absolution,
My mind has masterminded a revolution.
Addicted to anarchy and aggression,
Nobodies kept voted for nomination.
Tasty tar-treats, flavored of TNT,
Humor my hallucinations of this God-forsaken nation.
Abandoned, alone and arrested,
I* give up on this Vindication

Sabella, come out and play!
Sabella, where are you today?
Sabella, with her whips and toys,
Sabella, who beats all the boys.

Sabella, with her costumes and wigs,
Sabella, legs long like twigs.
Sabella, with her pretty knives and chains,
Sabella, broken beauty and brains.

Sabella, with her leather corset,
Sabella, whom you’ll never surfeit.
Sabella, with her thigh-high boots,
Sabella, who knows no roots.

Sabella, with her full-lip smile,
Sabella, won’t you stay for a while?
Sabella, with no inner inhibition,
Sabella, she’s on full exhibition.

We like to dwell in our sorrows,
thinking there will be no better tomorrows.
This late-night passive aggression,
that seems like every poet’s obsession.

Oh why can’t we choose to be happy?
When the colors are grey, to see beauty?
Why must we feed each others' depression?
That the world is ugly, full of suppression?

I now choose to look a little deeper,
seeing “pretty” does not make me weaker.
I choose to look for a different perspective;
I know it will be hard; misery is infective.

But I know that I have a choice:
To feel sorrow or to rejoice.
I’ve lost chapters to grief and sadness,
to realize and continue? Now that would be madness.