Tonight I'm on that metal horse.
Meta-force.
Went to the bar and met some ******.
**** was talked and shots were poured.
Drank 'em up then got real bored.
Lectured til I heard some snores.
Went back to the bar and got some more.

Diseased without a hope of cure.
Your face is like an emery board,
and your hair is like a handful of snakes curling round a Sycamore.

Throw it up! Down on the floor!
Two more steps and I'm out the door.
Don't compare me to your paramour.
I don't want to know the score.

Baited hook, shiny lure.
Fighting thoughts that can't be ignored,
but I'm not sure what I'm fishing for;

All you'll get are metaphors.

Compassion is rare these days.
It's always been rare,
but you've got it in spades.

I'd tell you to beware;
not to just give it away to anyone -
that it's possible for it to be drained . . .

but I'm pretty sure you know better than I do,
and that it doesn't work that way.

So many things that I don't want to do
lend me some cash
and maybe a place to crash
because there's so many things
that I don't want to do.

I don't really want to go to work each day
just to sell myself and my time and my name
to gather up money that I just waste anyway
on getting wasted almost every single day.

I don't want to sleep tonight
it's just another poor way
to spend my time
when I could be smoking
or drinking red wine,
I don't want to sleep tonight.
But if I do fall asleep
I don't want to wake up on time.

I don't even want to stand at all
I'll just sit down in the hall
and stare at the walls,
I don't want to move my neck
or cash my ******* paycheck,  
has the **** sun set yet?
It'd be nice in the cool damp nights
if I didn't have to do a thing
I would be quite alright
to lay in the grass and sing.

Head over heart into some distant fading darkness,
being pulled back into an almost familiar abyss.
You lost me at the outset,
but now I'm finding myself in this.

Your intent is to drown me, I know it.
I've told you far too much.
Placed every key inside your outstretched hands,
and now you're breaking all the locks.

Did I mean to let you in?
Is it too late to bar admission?
Is it even possible to get you out now that you've gotten in without permission?

You're not welcome in this place:
Intruder. Alien. Imposition.
But I'm so glad you're here right now;
please save me from this prison.

I just can't stop
replaying it in my head
over and over
again and again.

Soaked sneakers and Jesus,
I felt like a god
and tasted heaven
on your lips.

The sweat sheet cleaned
our muddy feet
and then I found myself
in your hips.

Keep it safe
in familiar territory.
Nothing non sequitur.
Nothing out of place.
Don't go sailing off into outer space.
Stick to topics that relate.
(Ignore how everything is connected to everything else -
not everyone thinks that way.)

Nothing out of left field.
You've got to save some face.
There's a reputation (somewhere, somehow) to maintain.
Be polite, pleasant, and plain.
Leave the madness in your brain.
Hide your heart;
keep it tucked away,
and above all else,
don't go digging up those corpses from their grave.

"Wonderful weather we're having.
Isn't it a lovely day?"

There's so much more to life.
That can't be all there is to say . . .

There you go again
Off into your fantasy land
The only place you feel (un)safe
I can understand

Your pain is so deep
Isn't it though
In its own profound shallowness
I know where you go

The realizing of the realization that makes your own frustration seem worthy of condemnation
Just to abandon all your judgements and lose yourself in creation
All the while adjusting to your own self induced damnation

Hey now, I'm just sayin'

Playing with ideas until they no longer resemble child's play
Then playing roughly
Absolutely
It still does though
And wouldn't you know it
I know that I do

Whoever grew up to be anyone but themselves
Nobody I know worth talking about

Whoever lost their minds just to find their own hell
I know a few who are locked up in cells

Some just get caught up in that wobbly effect
Grown so distraught by the echo
Some just don't know what to do next
But they all know how to let go

To pull away and fall apart,
like a cardboard box on a kite string.
In a meadow full of wild daisies,
with a truckload of duck feathers tucked inside a couple of chicken-wire cages;
leaking.

To lie awake while dreaming of escaping.
To sweat out every fear.
Crawling through the little door in the painting just to fall asleep again.