Tonight the starving children are on my mind,
and how I carry on,
as if I'm blind.

The sorrow is not mine to bare,
so I carry on as if they aren't there.

I ***** and moan about a wounded heart,
how someone stole my dues today.
I stuff my mouth with beer and bread,
and a shallow laugh gongs from the hole in my head.

I know those kids are selfish too,
and want to live just like me and you-
so they eat leaves and stones and sticks that don't satisfy,
until they fade away on a dusty floor,
while their mothers cry until they are no more.

I think about the love I have lost,
now I walk on past while I count my costs.
Too much effort in my busy life,
for guilt trips that will wring me dry.

Its cosy here with my petty doings,
meaningless pursuits and incoherent spewing.

Confessions of a worn out *****,
I swear that he's been here before-
His chunky chorbes and drunken breath,
his after shave that smells like death.
He pitches up after three,
to satisfy his lonely ******.
The leftover ******* of the night,
We share this sickness out of sight.

Confessions of a tired *****,
how I long for an open door.
But there are drugs to pay and bills to eat,
a haze to keep and my face to beat.
My sunken cheeks are racked with lines,
I cover with the shadows that blind,
In the dark I'm beautiful,
when I go down I'm powerful.

Confessions of a former saint,
and the man who's words could make her faint.
Who offered me a brand new world,
and filled my love with heroine.

Confessions of a dreamless sleep,
of days that tick like a foggy mist,
of purpose lost and hope that's fleeting,
of lies and lust and pain that's eating.

I want to write to immortalize my name,
but my heart is poured out on the ground like wax,
So like Jesus and Solomon and some others,
If I'm lucky,
maybe I could immortalize my pain.

It has all been redone, rehashed, rewritten, and reread, (this included)
and like billions of others,
my world revolves around me,
my instinct and my survival,
wedged in my head.

We are all philosophers, scientists and sheep,
from princes to murderers,
from mothers to sailors,
the remembered and forgotten,
the drunks and the tailors-
We're sincerely believing the delusions we keep.

I think some found truth,
and others found lies,
and some found excuses
for the passions of youth.

But I have favourite things that keep me alive,
the songs and the family and friends that help me pass time,
conquering problems and getting things right,
the fragile ecstasy,
the rare intimacy,
touch.

I constantly feel the drain of time running out,
my back is in knots,
I'm tired and in doubt.

I see people I love aging and fading,
and I know we all share it,
our lives are decaying.

My heart has grown hard from the sorrow I've seen,
so many bleeding,
I'm also bleeding.

It's too hard too cry tears for all the begging children I see
they never run out,
we're always needing.

I want to live hope and love in this world,
despite my terminal condition,
my weakness and waywardness,
my incessant betrayal,
there must be some good to flow from this cracked jar.

And I want to walk with you,
none of us are alone here,
this pain belongs to us all.

I will fail from time to time,
in my self-centerdness forget you are mine.

But there will be times when we will touch on eternity.
We will calm the blame with soft whispers of each others names.
We will laugh and clown until our tears have run out.
We will know we belong, pretend that were strong.

In this sense I do live for you, and you for me,
imagine without that what a hell this would be.

And when I die, who knows what will be next?
But I will leave behind some beautiful things.

And if you go before me,
I'll carry you home,
then bury your bones,
then bury your memories inside me
and let them fade with me.

Fake face Frankenstein,
Your farce is hanging on the line,
your feeble feet will dance the dime,
you are mine.

I'll hang your eyeballs on my ears
and remember all the dripping tears
the nightmares of your lying fears
it's done.

I've roped my world onto my back,
I'm going back,
to the ocean of love and innocence,
where I wont see you, and you wont see me,
And I will remember to forget, and you will forget to remember,
And I will laugh again, and you will keep trapping sailors,
and some will succumb,
but like me others will be done.

Sit with me in a pitch dark room
and lets imagine bright coloured paintings
on the walls and the ceiling.

I need a dark cave to hide me from the sun.
Too much burning beauty,
I'm on the run.

The neon lights,
they loved me true,
they drew me far away from you,
my mind is churned.

I want the freeze,
I want the tease,
to break it down.
I need a slave,
I am a slave,
I am enslaved.

It's because life is so fragile
that the colours are so intense,
that the pain is so immense,
that we love and hate.

This corruption sweetens us,
then prunes us,
then buries us.

Loss teaches us to find,
our honey lies in seconds that tick by,
an eternity of connectedness
that dissipates into the morning fog.

This is the reality we breathe in like shining shadows.

I want to write stars into your eyes,
paint admiration into your mind,
walk an epic movie into your life.
You are honey dripping off a peach of desire.

Come sit with me in a pitch dark room,
Let us be,
Lets sing in a whisper,
in a thick space,
of dreams and desire.

Sit with me,
lets talk some,
for another fragile memory
to be forgotten in time.

I need a dark cave to hide from the sun,
the burning beauty,
I'm on the run.

The neon lights love me true,
they drew me far away from you,
my mind is churned.

I want the freeze,
I want the tease,
to break it down.

I need a slave,
I am a slave,
I am enslaved.

I need a dark cave to hide from the sun,
the burning beauty,
I'm on the run.

The neon lights love me true,
they drew me far away from you,
my mind is churned.

I want the freeze,
I want the tease,
to break it down.

I need a slave,
I am a slave,
I am enslaved.