It was called the rooftop of the world
And I stood closer to the heavens than I ever had before.
The permafrost chill bit at my fingers
And the silence,
Oh the silence.
But I felt at home in the sense
That I had everything I needed.
I was closer to those things
Which I had previously thought
Impossible to reach.
I felt the presence of my mother,
And the memory of my father.
This place where peace is found
Gave me a new sense of life
In all of its meanings.
I couldn’t tell you what we’re here for
But I know that it starts and ends
Somewhere in Tibet.

The dark circles under my eyes tell the story of Rio.
As do the blood-shot beauties themselves.
My sunburned chees and bug-bitten legs, both tell the story of Rio.
That pain in my stomach that’s equal parts hunger and hangover,
The combined smells of cheap liquor, sunscreen, and DEET,
The film in my camera, and the samba in my head, all tell the story of Rio.
Rio is trying new things, meeting new people,
Losing them to the city, and then losing yourself.
The ******* cab drivers and broken-English streetwalkers all are parts of Rio.
Rio is sleeping pills, energy drinks, and getting home at sunrise.
Rio is the place that the big man Himself watches over.
Someone needs to, because Rio is a game,
And Rio always wins.

The stories they’d tell us as children
Gave merit to those who climbed the mountain
And to those who championed their goals.
But the thing they always forgot to tell us,
Was how the heroes got down from the peak.
They taught us that the path was as important
As the destination.
And yet they always stopped half way.
They stopped when the hero defeated his enemy
And they stopped when the hero was happy.
They stopped at the destination
And never once showed us the winding road home.
Because that road is unnerving,
And more challenging than the first.
Getting to paradise is not what’s difficult,
What’s difficult is leaving it behind.
What’s difficult is knowing that it’s over.
For you may find this place again someday,
But it will never be the same.
It’ll never be us, here together
In the way we were before.
So say good-bye to those you’ll not see again,
And remind me to call you when I’m lonely.
For we can talk and look back to this place
Where we laughed… where we cried
And where we did many things in between.
Take this moment, and cherish the top
And let’s get started back.
Because this is where the stories end,
And now it’s up to us.

Tear down the buildings,
For we can do better.
This world’s not ours
It’s been inherited, that’s all.
And who’s going to say
That we can’t just start over.

We’ll rewrite the rules
And tread our own path.
We’ll do it right this time
We’ll learn from their mistakes.
Today is a new day, a second chance.
And we’d do well to take it.

You say you want a Revolution?
Good, then start one.
A new beginning is only born
Out of the ruins of the past.
We may not last forever
But we’ll make it longer than those before us.

Life begins when you first look upon
Something vastly superior to yourself.
For what is it to be
When you’re but self-contained
And your scope reaches not past your nose?
It’s only when you stand in the wake of magnificence,
That you’re forced to take heed of your size.
Life,
This life,
This live we’ve been granted,
To some is a dream
To others a nightmare.
But to me the true terror
Lies only in the persistence of slumber.
If you’ve ever seen that one certain thing
That thing that finally opens your eyes,
Then you might just know what I mean.
It’s a beautiful affair to be alive.

I looked into the eyes of a beast
And all that I saw was myself.
I saw power and intellect,
Reasoning and will.
And yet the beast was in chains
All the same.
Not literal chains, for that
Would be cruel.
But there stands a fence
Ever so far away.
There’s a good chance the
Beast doesn’t know it exists.
But it does exist, for I’ve seen it.
I looked behind the curtain,
I broke the illusion,
And I saw the true face of Oz.
So what then is worse:
Chains you wear,
Or chains you don’t even know that you have?
And what’s to say that there’s no fence around me?
That I’m not a beast
In a park?
Perhaps there is one who
Has seen behind my curtain.
Yet like the beast,
I live woefully unaware.
So I take my cup of freedom,
With two lumps of salt.
And I keep my eyes open
For fences.
Because just like the beast
We might think that we’re free.
But until we cross the line
And see what’s on
The other side…
We’re really just another
Caged attraction.

Serenity is found where the sun shines,
Where the water is warmed by the land.
It’s where leaves and ponds share similar greens,
And when you bury your feet in the sand.

It’s said to be heard in the sounds of the trees
Where the best sound can be nothing at all.
Your mind starts to wander with the greatest of ease,
And you realize you’re really quite small.

The brush towers over you, up to the sky,
And the moss covered boulders stand proud.
From now on you know life won’t pass you by,
Because now, serenity has been found.

I remember that when I was young
A bunch of Insects taught me All I Need,
The Walrus showed me my Imagination,
And a couple Stones gave me Satisfaction.

Three Idiots Held My Heart Like a Grenade,
And Thnks go to a cartoon for giving a band its name.
My good friend Jimi led me through the Haze,
And the words of a Pie dropped me into a maze.

Old Blue Eyes was with Apollo when it Flew to the Moon,
And the Cops sang of a set of colored Eyes too.
Now, lets not forget those old composers,
And the Sweet Children who filled our Guns with Roses.

The King of Rock said Only Fools Rush In,
The Queen said Champions Fight ‘Til The End
The Prince played his guitar like a god,
And the Jester’s voice was a little odd.

Those surfer Boys sang about Vibrations,
While the Lizard King expressed his Fiery intentions.
Mr. White was always there to set the mood,
And Mr. Brown explained how to Feel Good.

Ms. Franklin taught me how to spell,
Mrs. Robinson got me out of hell,
Ms. Perry’s figure was like a Dream,
And Mrs. Ross still reins Supreme.

One blind man sang of his home in Georgia,
And another was Superstitious.
A guy named Ozzy served as my conductor
As I looked out at the Smoke on the Water.

Michael danced like no one else,
And Kurt rebelled against life itself.
Cocker left the stage with nothing left to give,
And it was music that taught me how to live.

I feel like “like” is a lost emotion
Often replaced by “love”. But I don’t know
If “love” is an equally strong notion
For “love” can fade, yet “like” can only grow.

“Love” is a word that can be thrown around
To express a variety of things.
But “like” can have a meaning so profound
That you would find the lacking of “love” stings.

What is “love” when you say that you love me?
Just a word, a phrase… or a true feeling?
I hope that these first two can never be,
But the unknowing is unappealing.

Though fear not my dear, for I do love you,
Yet beyond love, I say, I like you too.

My love, now lost, feels like a life lost, too.
See I seem to have no life left to live
So long as I am no longer with you.
My actions are what I ask, you forgive.
Forgive my poor melancholy diction,
And other sad traits that don’t seem like me.
They’re but a result of my affliction,
And not what I would like for you to see.
I wanted to be with you, forever.
But now that forever has come early,
I’m not ready for our ties to sever.
My dear I know, I know two things surely:
     You have forgotten me, or so it seems.
     But to live, I must have you, if only in dreams.