The spinning of the Earth is never interrupted
for anyone.  
Although, faces of men whisper of experience
between ideas that come undone.

Deep questions slide into all we know to be,
step right in.
Yet, we do not hesitate to look away,
when their hours begin.

Looking back at the summer of our lives,
were we supposed to hold hands?
Perhaps we never tried, or merely gave up
in the end.

Just another minute or two tries not too smile
when reading what’s been said.
We wait for justice, and then roll over
playing dead.

Settling in, we do not mention lessons
learned from each moment.
Is this not a step towards
what lies underneath our torment?

Are we running out of time and a foot behind,
because we do not care?
Do we only commit to that which comforts
our own air?

Sometimes I doubt if we closed our eyes for a second
we would see the entire picture,
perhaps because, we refuse to see ourselves
as we are,
Imperfect Creatures.

An ordinary soul encompassed in extraordinary expectations.
Social pressure manifesting itself into anxiety and doubt.
A mechanical mess of cogs and wheels churning out endless streams of mental clout.

Be what I will and do as I may is what I say.
But they say:
Be what we will and do as I do, this is the proper way.
Try not reform or perform to conform is what I say.
But they say:
Follow me through this hollow tree and you will see what I want you to be, this is the proper way

An ordinary soul encompassed in extraordinary expectations,
passed down through electric, media driven sensations of transient satisfaction,
a mechanical mess of wound up plastic toy soldiers marching in circles with rubber souls pointing death dealing cylinders at each others backs.

Be yourself for everyone else is what I say.
But they say:
Be everyone, or else.
Try for progression's sake, be genuine and certainly not fake is what I say
But they say:
Try for regression's sake, be fake and certainly not genuine, this is the proper way.

An ordinary soul encompassed in extraordinary expectations,
disgusted with modern tribulation, choosing self-selected conscious liberation.
A singular, personal declaration toward evolution.
A natural mess of vines and roots reaching below and above producing boundless rivers of truth and love.
This is revolution.

Be one amongst many is what I say.
But they say
Be us. This is the proper way.

Be you, is what I say. This is the proper way.

The pieces of me
Were falling through the cracks
The pieces of me
Shattered from the past

These pieces I've
Been missing so long
You've put them back
Where they belong

In your shirt pocket
Grazing your chest
Where those pieces are safe
And can be loved best

You've found those shards
Where someones thrown them away
You're now who will
Keep them safe

Be careful because
My thinly severed parts
Hardly resemble
What once was a heart

They may embed
Themselves within
And splinter you with
Broken passion

I may not give you all of me
But I can share my pieces
A bite of me is all you need
The bite that never ceases