The unorthodox are the true prophets
for their ways are those of the future,
so in the now, most kings get their head cut off.

But as death is the greatest prophet,
for it never fails to come true,
their martyrdom proves their ways truer than the footsteps of their fathers,
so in the face of adversities;
never be afraid to be a lonely Jesus on the Cross.

I’m working to unwrap you slowly
To form you up like a theory
To create a habitat for you in my head
My steps grow wider when I see you at the end
Lying, lounging, an old lion
Afternoon sun low and tired
Rays and shadows streak the road like enveloping arms
As I grow closer, you project even further away
I just long to reach you
Rest my head against your ***** and
Sleep against your softness like a pile of feathers
To rest at last.

But at times I think I’ll never reach you,
As I approach you reflect even further away
I wonder that this road is endless, thinning into the distance
The black wires radiate into the air above me
Mutating my simple DNA into something else entirely
A sole purpose survivor, a solider
The cause is more desperate now
They’re buzzing to each other above my head, talking about me
Their scrutiny banging between my ears
The dust becomes a new layer of me, with incredible thirst
Just fields of dehydrated dandelions, just nothing

They soak up the liquid from everything
With their chemical and electrical waves
The fields are screeching as they shrivel up, like dying children
Now it’s all yellow, beige, and far away
It’s all so tiny against the horizon,
For all I know, your silhouette has become a statue by now
Just this long stripe of dirt I treat like a passageway
Just a ladder to a final place of rest
I’m desperate for a stop in my trudging motion
But I know I can’t lie down in this unworthy sand.

A quiet child in the backseat, with two lesbian mothers
A new age experiment with granola and ****
I can’t even edge my way into the conversation, I can’t even force it
I can’t understand why you leave so much empty space hanging around
I need someone to lessen the divide, someone I can see myself in

Someone who fills up all the space and doesn't care how
Someone who will feast and starve just to know the craving
Someone who wants a thrill, who wants to know all the ways we can feel
Someone who can match my steps as I walk home, no longer alone
Sharply aware of any creatures awake in the dark, because we’re one of them
With some kind of tropical taste in my mouth even in the dead of winter

I have the empty squares on the calendar to look forward to; I have time to find you.

Today you wear a black sweater.
Standing in the marshy December atmosphere
With a cigarette between your two most learned fingers
You do not take shame in such a habit
But you make it so appealing.

That day you wore a beige knitted number
I saw you at dinner, and recognized you right away
Your distinctive ****** features peeking out
Over the loosely woven yarn that hugs your torso
That face I still cannot quite figure out.

I watched that beige collared cloth
Hang down your back and angle at your neck
As you danced behind that girl I didn’t know
And then I watched that same sweater
Stumble on over to me, ecstatic to be there
I had no reason not to indulge you.

And when you wear your school’s sweater
I know you need to belong, and play a part
You’re a rugby star, a lettered fraternal success
But I also know that grey cotton crew neck
Clings closer to you, than I ever will.

I do things that as a kid I promised I wouldn't
and tell myself that it's alright when I probably shouldn't
because my brainpower
could be used for staying power
'stead I fly for cover like birds in a rain shower

We go bad like curds on the Mayflower
hoping we can make one moment last eight hours
forget our jealousy
convinced we're making memories,
but something in my heart keeps on telling me:

Somebody tell me why I'm so mad
and why growing apart makes me so sad
sometimes I wish I could go back
I really wish I could go back

I've made mistakes, and I know that
I have a good heart, but I'm so bad
sometimes I wish I could go back
oh how I wish I could go back

The artist is strong
He has the power
to make anything that he wants
He wears the cloak
that all others seek to dismantle
So they can wear it for themselves
He has influence
he has control

The man is weak
He crafts his artwork
to cover every single flaw
To rewrite everything
He is burdened by whatever vulnerability
all others cannot imagine
His insecurities fuel him
he has no control

A pretty girl smiled at me yesterday
and I thought of nothing cool to say.

So loneliness is the price I'll pay
because I just let her slip away.

And you're just a song that I can't seem to get out of my head.
Same beats, same tune, same mistakes.
Everytime I try to escape,
Somehow I end up right back at your feet.