I'd like to make a toast to the ghosts,
settled softly on my shoulders.
Shapeless apparitions,
creating such a pressure I stagger,
with every step.
Here's to you,
the permanent parasites of my mind.
Never worry old friends.
I drink one for me,
and one for each of you.
I will let the burden,
carry me forever downward.
I will not forget that which was once flesh beside me,
now turned dust beneath my feet.
So cheers!
My ghastly ball and chain.
Pray that you rest soundly,
while yet gnawing at my brain.

I think I know,
the pain that must have come,
while fighting and dying in battles of old.
Solely from the ache in my heart.
I like to imagine,
you shoved a spear right through,
or split it's center with an axe,
cleaving it, in two.
But no,
you did more than just halve it.
You stuck the knife in,
gave it a savage twist.
Tore that wretched pump to pieces,
and then you spit,
on it.
So now I wander,
a wounded man,
no place left called home.
The only thing I'd known as such,
was the land on which you roamed.

Darling,
I'm hardly a man of impeccable character.
And lets be honest,
some of the **** I'm known to do
has probably put some doubt in you.
Yes,
I'm a drunk and I'm ******* reckless,
and, my words have never failed to cut deep,
when I feel I'm tested.
But give me a chance and you'll quickly come to learn,
I'm also a man of daring and I am a man of my word.
Yea,
occasionally I'm lacking in moral fortitude
and empathy's a feeling that I'm genuinely foreign to.
Truly though, take my hand
and I promise I will love the very ground on which you stand.
I'm fairly far from flawless, I've got some vices I adore.
Just put a little faith in me, I promise, I'll love you more.

Do not disturb,
the dog that slumbers.
Make the blunder,
be torn asunder.
Lightning strikes before the thunder.
You'll still feel it from six feet under.
And all you love,
will not recover.
From their son,
who forever slumbers.

I dreamt that I slept,
in a field full of sunshine,
near a creek that flowed slowly,
where the wind gently blew.

And I woke with a stretch,
and a sigh and a yawn
and I saw a lost angel,
with eyes, bright as jewels.

Her lips were like velvet,
her skin soft as silk
and she spoke with soft grace
her words like glass, smooth.

Well I reached for my angel,
and, this dream fell apart.
The scenery faded,
for dreamers are fools.

Drown it in whiskey,
smother it in cigarettes,
rather end it quickly
then have to live and die
with my regrets.
embracing death and
misery my innocence is
history
to me the truth
is a mystery
find life lackin
in symmetry
I hope the wronged
have forgiven me
will not tip toe
to it gingerly
just skip right to the inquiry
should I end it all now
or bring in the artillery?

In a valley dark and dead, a little lamb did lie,
he'd given up, enough's enough! And here I'll tell you why.
You see his spirit had worn away, with every fang-ed smile.
This meager sheep was born and raised, within the land of lions.

The little lamb toiled all day, he struggled to find a purpose
while everyone he'd ever known, just filed into the furnace.
He looked around at all the lines, how they carried on for miles!
But this is just the way it goes, when you're in the land, of lions.

And despite the effort he'd commit, the cycle wouldn't stop.
All hope was lost or beaten out, of his meek and wayward flock.
They'd turn their heads and softly say “We do admire your defiance,
but we're very sorry, little lamb, this is the land of lions.”