Sometimes I throw logic out the window,
I see monkeys smashing cymbals,
when I play to my condition,
all my fears come to fruition.

I don't mind the exhausting panic,
'cause I sure love being manic,
I'll challenge death any day,
if I get to live my way.

Push me please so I can push back,
I live my life on the attack,
burning bridges feels so good,
when you're totally misunderstood.

Don't feel special, don't feel different,
chances are you're just a misfit,
bleed and see you're just the same,
as everyone playing the game.

You never think it'll hit you like it does,
headlines, top stories, dead classmates.
Subtle news that causes an earthquake,
rumbling through your chest.

It's not your everyday story,
but it seems it's becoming that way.
"Overdosed on ******", I read,
but it doesn't surprise me.

Just another soul the Devil grasped,
torn from the heart and left to pass,
another good man broken down,
another motherless child in doubt.

Another headline gone ignored,
another cry for help lost,
in the drowning sound of the thousands,
trapped beneath the crippling disease.

Every night I run red lights,
and not because I'm in a rush,
something about the possibility of death,
I just love it.
And sometimes I wish metal would crash,
roll me over and take my life,
icy cold heart in my chest,
just won't stop beating.
And my brains would spew out of my mouth,
like applesauce out of a baby's,
like these words I'm throwing up onto paper,
the words I can't say out loud.

Broken walls and cracked beams,
remind me of the cracks in the trees.
Everyday is just another game,
but nothing is the same.

Silhouettes dance in the clouds,
crashing into each other, so loud.
They shine down on me with shame,
but nothing is the same.

Blisters and tears in my skin,
invite the Devil to come in,
blood and dirt both look the same.

Every word is another temptation,
I'm just trying to find salvation,
some things never change.

Don't put the dagger in my hand,
put it in my chest.

Sun rises on the day,
and incinerates the night before.
Bodies stumble to the kitchen,
jello legs drag across the floor.

Silence hangs in the air,
as we sip on our open drinks.
We hate us now, sick and tired,
but one day we'll think...

Think of the drunken friends,
all the spilled drinks,
all the puked out brains,
all the drinking games,
all the endless laughs,
and all the times we crashed,
and all the love we shared,
under one small roof.

I feel the glow of the sun,
slowly absorbing into my skin,
while the light within my chest,
is growing rather dim.

Millions of miles away sits a heart,
that I can only dream is mine.
Its everlasting glow and warmth,
are what I miss inside.

My heart is clunky, missing pieces,
and coated with a layer of rust.
It's chugging on like a locomotive,
omitting only bad love.

Someday I'll find what I'm looking for,
and replace this pile of scraps,
with the everlasting, shining sun,
that I envied so much in the past.