"Forgo all the secrets
That are twisted in this spire
Lay them unto me
And I will walk them through the fire
They'll smell of ash stained brimstone
From the moment they arrive
But the fact that they've been whispered
Should make you feel you're more alive


Not everything perceived as evil
Has always been that way
Sometimes revelations
Are best saved for another day
What was once seen as an omen
Could be a blessing in disguise
Sometimes the coolest thing you'll ever touch
Is the fire in his eyes"

The devil stands beneath us
In a cold orchestra hall
All dressed up for the winter
Even though its early fall
She's either laughing or she's crying
Which it is I do not know
But she wields it through her fingertips
Unto her cherry wood cello

"I've got this army of two thing
figured out:
You and me against
everything under the clouds.
An eye for an eye
leaves the world blind
yet you'll only taste blood,
biting your tongue all the time.
So when we get the chance
let's head for the hills.
We'll take all the drugs
and leave all the pills."
Take a testosterone boy
and a  harlequin girl
and just like the old song,
a story will unfurl.

Because every man is a town
inhabited by his ghosts;
whichever haunt is around
sees change in the host.
She can taste each drug
that's ever touched his lips
and she feels herself fall
every time that he slips.
There's a white line between addiction
and recreational use,
you need to conquer it
before it starts to consume you.
Eventually the nature
of his addiction will spread
and it starts to fill the cracks
inside his loved ones head.

She's blinded by his single
glaring quality;
her eyes have turned the green
of his hard earned money.
She can't hear anything
over his way with words
so she divides all that he says
into thoughtful thirds:
The times that he's right,
the times that he's wrong
and the things that sound like lyrics
from a cheesy love song.
He's calculated all his moves
and stolen all his lines
and the haze he's put around her
almost makes her feel fine.

He just wants someone
to be proud of what he's done
'cause his mother gives love,
yet he's received none.
And she just wants someone
to approve of her thoughts;
she's never been accepted
yet it's all that she wants.
They've confused love
with a complacency
but to everyone else
the truth's presented clearly.
A scattered home
comes from a scattered mind,
now their losing control
and running out of time.

The well is dry
Tonight

Not much thought

Nowhere to go
But sleep

Or

Drink

The well is dry
Tonight and

I envision black crocodiles
With razors for
Teeth, chuckling underneath
Their putrid, blood stink breath
Their belly's tanning
In the sun like I wish I could

Pepper shakers for
Limbs caring for
The war sick wounded
Sounding like the whoosh
Of the first windy roar
From an atomic explosion

Naked and writhing and waiting
For death to crack his knuckles
The big sleep at last
Where no light can be seen
Taking comfort in the new, familiar darkness

At night, when there isn't much going on,
I see the water start to boil over
The food begin to rot in its bowls
Lakes churn from no wind or rain or boat
Only spinning to feel its means has an end

Here, the fish weep into their scaly fins
And night - when there isn't much going on -
With the bars all open and the churches all closed
And the streets bursting with de-salienation tools
Branded with love and hate and indecency;
Where matters pressed are things worth dying for

The well
Is dry
Tonight

And the trains and trams pass by
A ***** dies
A cop makes a young woman cry

Yes,
There is not much
Going on

Tonight

But there are still things happening
I try to hear them
I get lucky every now and again

When there isn't much going on,

The dust of the dirt
Fills my nostrils, making it
Hard to breathe and I see
Snakes have bitten my feet,
Though they do not swell and
Laughter of one who once loved me,
Has turned to the ringing in my ears

Clouds form the forward march
And the fortress has buckled down
This place does not need to make sense
Here, I can be alone with no one but
Who I was before and who I wish to be

The well is dry tonight
But, I continue seeking

I keep on
Digging
Picking
Brushing away the dust
And wiping away the blood

The well is dry tonight
And I try to keep on

Drinking
Thinking
Blinking

Anyways

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.