Ellie asked for candy and coffee and told me about his new lyric
"They see me smiling,they think it's a frown
Turned upside down"
We laughed it away

I found a secret trophy
Hiding from the herd of men
Secretly floating in some sea
The label just asked "when?"

The trophy was gone and so was the thought
That a puppet could ask for more
The master looked away, to the hounds that were chained
And said "it isn't much you bore"

I saw a dream through the fires
Secretly camping in your eyes
The ventriloquist grew tire
Drew his hands out in quiet

And that was the moment, that our worlds caved in
And you crumble right on my knees
But the timing was wrong, as i crawl to the top
And we missed each other completely

The priest walked in to the bar
Asked "where are the others?"
The bartender said "not that far"
Then some monster killed him and his troubles

Then there was the moonlight, shining on the kitchen aile
Hitting nothing but a lonely knife
The knife melted off, it just couldn't stop
To catch the fiery sun die

I still remember when i told you
I still hold on to that moment
It calls for a blood-rid fortune
And sorry that i couldn't sing

And that's just the lullaby, that just wouldn't die
And the moments before it grew
It took under our castle, the realms of anxious
And whispered "i love you"
Mhmmm and it whispered "i love you"

The interior of her heart is tuned with glory
Her spirit lived in the void, screaming in the Halfway mystery

These reckless little thieves that could but behold your command but couldn't question
As there hands are tied with falling goodbyes and sympathy that they swear to taste
No mercy did these strangers receive,
The courage failed and these strangers were killed by the greater pain of lesser fear
They juggled their sense figuring out the tone of their endeavouring love
It turned out to be abuse

A gospel beneath, mumbling some pop song
hidden, from nobody yet unseen
a herd full of kids and romantics
You smell the teen spirit amongst their spoils
a creature who locks up his spirit and consumes it
bit by bit, snacking the crumb of consciousness
divide every bit to consume yourself from within
A word mumbled till it lost all meaning
don't ask for help when you are lost to everything

"Her hand was cold, and she cried for the sake of her mysterious unusual love"  said people  
The immortality of her blank face wasn't her at all but was
She the young woman who loved her look ignoring the horrors of her past
They had a family with angry strangers and loved ones
But she was killed by an accident without innocence or guilt
The immortal is the thought dear, that doesn't have a face...

To the voice that alarm my people,
No wonder she bled recalling it,
There is a lust more like an envy roaring for love,  
It is engendered by the echoes in the chamber of her chest.  
To the fires in the forest of memories,  
And the horrors of the forest  dancing and flirting with her soul,
High as the nerve without pulse or false,  drowning in the very soil
The soil so clean as the lines she drew

there is a fire hydrant
a few meters away from my car
it screams fire like it saw everything
like a child playing seek with me
and hide in a corner above the clouds
and hid there for a thousand nights
and I scream and scream, but nothing creeps
but the emptiness in the shape
of a frat child's school drawing
locking the suitcases, going to places
but it's like the spring of the coldest
where my eyes hover on your shoes
maybe my autism for I never took that test
But I snap to the pretentious smile I give
as it breaks like crumbling bridges
over dead breeze and dying waters
there is a knife
a few meters away from me
a particular joke I must always make
about knife, and the art of self-worth
a knife so distant once that only the moon
hit her twice a month, her soft and gleaming glow
her unwavering, free ecstasy on a Monday
coming from an angle, so inclined it feels illegal
"but nothing is illegal in love", the knife said
but the moon changed its angle, on a Tuesday
and the knife killed itself by cutting him
there is nothing
a few meters from me

idealism is dead on the kneel, gleaming mile-high glow
but leaking some blood, desperation, realistically
the ideal road is twisted and melted into the bars
to walk past till sundown and turn left to the county
turn right to the world of the corrupt, leaching, and thieving
maybe you'll get a life son, like that man right there
that man in a white hat wanted to buy the world, whole
he blows on his tambourine like he blows on this world
a dark shroud of a man covered in green, a mountain of it
the next day, a long night in Arkham Asylum, a lil' Johnny Cash
an old man was traveling that bleak road, smoking and smiling
when he turned right, he saw the man in his dim eyes and asked
"my blued son, where are my valleys and the mountains?"
"Where are my swans and rivers, birds and children playing?
"Where are the mothers, drunks, and the lovers?"
"Where are the commies, the reformers, the queers?"
"Where are my space rockets, satellites, and science stuff?"
"Where are the trees, those green insects, or flowers, it's near spring?"
the man said,
"Old man you're insane, that was all in your head.
dipped and planted like a seed, the moon was a joke, and the sun too.
You need to be electrocuted and controlled till you're better, this is the real world"
he turned to some corner to say
"come, writers and critics, invite and incite some distinct pain
don't block your mind with senseless meaning, be blinded today
come, ladies and gentlemen, curse some distinct verse of words
struck together by your vision of hell, spun to heaven"

Future Is A Bleak Piece of Music