If I had a wall between myself and truth
I'd climb it, but only halfway
For beyond a point there is no handhold

If my eyes are plotting against me
Don't tell me, because blindness
Is a place where the world is brighter

I won't second guess my decisions
For I'm second best, and that I accept
As a wanderer of this broken earth

I cannot lay about any longer
I'm restless, no sleep comes
To the spirit that elicits this enterprise

She smokes her last cigarette
While waiting on the light to change her mind
Because at the corner of bent and broken
Green means stop, and red means go

Her world is just a snowglobe
In the hands of an innocent child
Here at the corner of bent and broken
The snowflakes fall but they never melt

She stares at the lights in the town square
Neon signs flicker, then burn completely out
Here at the corner of bent and broken
The blackout burns brighter than the sun

She is fully conscious of all the subtle things
That turn her rusted wheels and brake her speeding heart
Because at the corner of bent and broken
The collision is the truth behind a forgotten smile

We clean up debris and stitch wounds, but our lips are stitched far more tightly than we first believed.  We are basking in the silhouette of silver skylines, but these vacant voices are maddening in the deep quiet.  I've watched for years as our laughter faded, from a medicine delivered through strands of innocence, to the subtle poisons of dying youth.

And it makes me wonder,

Am I so crumpled that
I can't defend myself from seduction?
Have I even once been amended since
My evils were birthed into this chaos?
Am I really so callous that
I ignore the pleas of my heartbeat?
Are we all so burdened that
The beast doesn't even matter anymore?
Is it so far-fetched to ask for my own exile
From mankind's tragic grand finale?

He is a pariah
Tossed aside like a scrap of food
Antiquated
Ever-changing like a demon's mood
His words are pale
Like leaves blowing in the wind
His eyes are a stark contrast
Dancing among hues as he transcends
He is a smuggler
Housing the secrets of a generation
A benevolent rain is falling
In this desert of hibernation
He dreams in allegory
Brandishing an army of mystery
Waking up only starts the dream again
To stare down barrels of his own artillery

When push comes to shove
And hate turns to love
We clamp down until fingernails break the skin

He curses his dastardly shadow
And looses his cowardly arrow
All without aiming for the heart deep within

We break molds with our sadness
Make bold statements in madness
Knowing there are more wishes than wells to grant them

Set in motion by dying cultures
We leave bait for the vultures
Exasperated children, we have no men left to defend them