Open casket funeral and I'm inside it,
watching all the spectators crying,
but I don't get it,
it's what I've always wanted.

Here come friends and family,
kiss me on the lips,
I feel their tears as cold as ice,
their lips burn,
hot as a steam pipe.

But this is what I wanted,
I've been in the air for years,
finally came down on a whim,
and now I'm here.

I've been here,
once or twice,
too many times.

It's a sound I've heard before,
but I'm not exactly sure.

Maybe I haven't been.

I'm standing on my head,
at the bottom of a swimming pool.
It's really not that hard but I pretend I can't do it.
Then I start choking on the water,
I've been under too long,
I've been sleeping,
and you should never sleep underwater.

We're living in the Age of Ignorance,
where the voice is a weapon,
wielded by a troublesome mind.

We're living in the Age of Arrogance,
where my word is wrong,
and your word is right.

We're living in the Age of Unfair,
where the workers all strike,
and the employers are the bad guys.

We're living in the Age of Me,
where there is no We,
there is only I.

What a time to be alive.

Trials under an unfamiliar roof,
under foam board ceiling panels,
I thought I knew love,
I knew nothing.

It's a tidal wave on unfamiliar seas,
on a boat I don't know how to captain,
I'm a stranger to the concept,
and the concept is a stranger to me.

You think you feel it,
but you would know.
You think you know,
but you don't know till she comes.
A tidal wave,
and everything before is like playground love.
She's everything and you're nothing without her.

He's a crystal glass sitting on the kitchen table,
and he's sliding off 'cause the legs are too unstable.
So he shatters on the floor,
like so many times before,
the boy weeps.

Now I tell him to pick himself up and get on the table,
and he tells me he can't 'cause the legs are too unstable.
But he's just too small,
that's really all,
holding him back.

So I tell him to be the legs for the kitchen table,
'cause I didn't do my job and I couldn't be his savior.
I tried to hold him up,
but I let him down,
and I can't bear to tell him that it's my fault he's on the ground.

The air brushes, cool against my skin,
it hits me like a new day.
Warm pitter patter on my arms,
undercutting scent of soil,
and a heavy pull on my life force,
dragging me out,
pulling me in.

The dim light shimmer on the wrinkled tar,
cracked and patterned,
like the skin of a gecko.
I've been walking for years but it's been a millennium,
and I'm tired of walking but I want the future.

Now I'm at my car,
now I'm at my car.

People write about the city lights,
how they glimmer and shine so bright,
but all I see is a man made mess,
infrastructure, nothing more, nothing less.

Unkempt properties and sewage scented streets,
under dim lit lights and fluorescent flickering signs.
I'm driving through vast fields and flourishing forests,
that were torn up and toppled when man arrived.