It seems that I am indeed
Just another lost soul
Perhaps Floyd was right
Maybe the world is a fishbowl

But you see, the trouble
In all of this nonsense
Is that I still hope to see
You hop over my fence

Please tear down my wall
Oh, won't you come in?
I've been feeling comfortable
Yet numb, dismissing my sin

So what are we?
Essentially good, or not?
Do you find favor in Socrates?
Is Nietzche's idea the one you bought?

Let's question, let us wonder
Should my thoughts go assunder
Don't tip or toe, or go tumbling under
Nevermind the noise, it's just thunder

Get caught up in the spark
The rigid structure of light
Because you are alive
So live this gift of your life

These human conditions
Seem far from humane
When no one listens
And sense seems insane
And the spinning is more
Than an effect from the high
And you don't know what for
Let alone pinpoint why
When your tolerance for pain
Seems extraordinary low
And the sound of their name
Is unhealthy to hold
Lucky you, that the drugs they sing
And they soothe
And serenity bring
To the less complete you

I don't write poems drunk,
Drunken poems write me:
Within this hazlewood
Of less-than-goods,
I've arrived in style with clarity.

The stormy seas, the false pretentions,
The media, the Feds, all the deception.
The conformity of this seemingly miserable life.
Is unnecessary, I reject it.
I demand serenity, nothing less will suffice.

I yearn for a love who writes poems sends letters and plays a casual song on the guitar,
while in time beats the rhythms of the music of my affectionate and yearning heart.

I'd be fond of a man who is willing to talk about anything trivial or convoluted with expression,
And go on for hours learning each other's views of the world and be interesting enough to pay attention.

But isn't it awful, how I sell myself short seeing several different men every week?
Making something that is not love in the back of ****** old movie theatres, when truly I'm more interested with what's on the screen.

Have I become the ***** that the poets scorn?
The heartless girl, who leads on far to many a man?
No darling, I promise I'm just lost between wanting love and being numb.
And quite frankly, I think the poets would understand.

I'm writing just to let you know
That last night I hit rock bottom
And I'm not entirely sure
What I was searching for
In the bottom of a bottle

I wish that life was easy
And that each problem had a solution
But as far as I can tell
Not everything is meant to end well
It's a sad, but true, occurring conclusion

So I've learned something through all of this
That hanging on to you is poisonous
And heartache can't be drunk away
You just end up with your face in the toilet
And that's when I made up my mind I'll tell you now though I hate to spoil it

It hit me when I realized I had my face where people ****
And it seemed like a new low
Because I knew I was there because I've yet to let you go
And it's all very ironically metaphorical if you ask me
That where people **** is where I had my epiphany
Because **** is what you always put me through

So, basically, in summary, *******.

you left without saying goodbye.
and you want me to move on, to think that it means you don't care.
but i already know you all too well.
and you love me still, you're just a someone who's too scared.

Oh, how silly all of us mere humans are!
Preoccupied with having big houses and shiny cars.
How lost we have all become!
Consumed in ourselves, compelled by our wants.

Is it more money that will melt your heart?
Is it immense success or limitless power?
Is it all matter of materialism?
A new toy with every passing hour?

Perhaps it's lust that you try to slake?
Or you try to quench your thirst with alcohol?
Maybe you seek your solace in drugs?
But do you really expect to find true happiness in that at all?

Silly humans, sweet and lost, weren't you every taught?
The sui generis thing about happiness is that it cannot be bought.
So stop seeking for it in things you purchase, or ***, or drugs.
And instead, seek for it in something free, perchance, seek it through love.

I am a song.
Some prefer something different than me.
Others empathize with my tune.
I make some people feel sad.
I make others feel happy.
Some hear what I have to say, but quickly change the station.
Others, listen to me over and over and say I never get old.
Some people just play me.
Others decide to join me, and sing along.
I am a song.

Will you lend me a pair of scissors?
So we can cut to the chase.
It seems you are always turning on music.
Just to dance around our problems.
I am through with rolling the dice.
I am done humoring all your games.
Stop leaving me hanging like a thread.
Will you lend me a pair of scissors?
So i can cut myself loose and be happy again.

i fell in love with the stars
because i never thought they'd let me down
until one night it was cloudy
and not a single sky diamond could be found

so i became quite fond of the sun
and basked in its warm and comforting glow
until one day, the sky kept crying
and the heartless sun refused to show

so i decided to fancy the moon
thinking the moon would always come through
but every day it faded away leaving the night
the way it left me; empty and velvet and dark blue

so as you see, i'm used to being disappointed and alone
i feel abandoned each time i stop and reminisce
and quite honestly, chances are one day you'd leave me too
so that's why, kind gentleman, i decline your kiss

how terribly dull
what pitiful fools
who can't think for themselves
and abide all the rules

how wonderfully clever
and unequal in measure
are those brave few who dissever
themselves, from platitudinous notions, and live free, forever.

i see it now
i spent countless hours
peeling petals off of flowers
and wishing futures that would never come
seeking love in the dark and not in the sun
i see it now
he is the wave that drags sailors under
and the lightning that proves more fatal than thunder
and the song the birds hum that is too melancholy
and he never could ever truly love me fully
yes, i see it now