I dreamt of you last night

When I woke up the next day

The sky was ablaze

And for a moment I could see the future...

We were always destined to go down in flames.

if little things didn't make a big difference
God would not have created insects

We crossed into Louisiana
Right about witching hour
The energy there
Invades the aura
Years of compacted sorrow
Combined with the
Old ways of root doctors
And esoteric power

You take the Hoodoo
To the crossroads

We're in the back roads
Of Monroe
They talk to you there
Ya know

I put my bare feet
To the swampy grasses
At the railroad tracks
Illuminated by the waxing moon

Hail Hecate!
We envoke thee
Commit this wax and ash
To the earth
Blessed be )0(

These things don't write themselves. Somebody has to build the machine that spits it all out. Relentlessly. Forever. A whole country standing in line to build a story they never have time to read. We're all slaves in this one. The dead leading the dead.

Sometimes the fear of living
Felt to me too much to bear
I was drowning in reality
My suffering seemed unfair

I could not understand it
I replayed every scene
Deep into my dark nightmares
All my ifs and might have beens

I turned over but one question
Where had it all gone wrong
Nothing quite made sense to me
Like some discordant song

The winds of shame were blowing
Carrying autumn leaves of pain
Raining down tears of heartbreak
I made the same mistakes again

Blind to all life's goodness
I discarded happy thoughts
I learned well the lessons
That my misery had taught

Sinking in my addictions
Numbed without control
I could not fight my demons
So I let them take my soul