I’m slippin’ down that road again
Not sure how much time I’ll spend
On these back roads
Just tryin’ to get home

Things keep bein’ the same
Things ain’t done & changed
Still I keep feelin’ the shame
For the things done in my old skin

If all things are the same
I just can’t stay here again
And if I just can’t change
My story so
Please don’t be so sad
When I go

Spent most my years
Ringin’ in my ears
And I swear it’s just
That soul tellin’ me
Ta’ ease my own pain

Ain’t nobody perfect enough
To lead some measurable life
Ain’t nobody good enough
To be no saint

Not much here for me now
And barely any time left to wait

If all things are the same
I just can’t stay here again
And if I just can’t change
My story so
Please don’t be so sad
When I go

And when life throws
We do our best to take the blows
Cuz only one thing sure certain
Is everybody goes.

someone once said that if you love something,
you should set it free.
as if this is something done so easily.


they could have explained a little about
the tide of chilly, bittersweet memories
that greet me every morning
making my socks wet all day

at first we played games
like 'see who can love the other more'
now it's **** on me, i'll **** on you
and if i don't have anything worthwhile i'll drink until i can muster up just about anything devilish

never thought much to bite my tongue
but i'm somewhat starting to wish i had it removed with my tonsils last year
right before i met you
maybe it would have made more sense if i hadn't the ability to talk myself up
and make it seem like i'm a person who cares about anything

you see i've learned lately that i'm no good, when it really comes down to it
i can go through the motions and get by, but when it comes down to the most crucial moments, like when one must hold their tongue... i spit

Unlike fossil fuels
I won't run my life on things
That are so long dead.

my hair's getting long, love
about as long as you would have liked
long enough to pull and squeeze
when we shared our kaleidoscopic bliss at night

people i haven't seen in a while
all have something to say
"hey man, i didn't know that was you!" they joked
last night as i set up my gear on stage

i'm glad you asked me to grow it, my fallen love
it's getting to the perfect length;
long enough to make me invisible
but long enough to give me strength

you see i always wanted to be a ninja
wear the ponytail of a samurai
i always thought it would just be cool
but last night i discovered why:

so i can be invisible to your love, my dear
like a ninja in the night
my hair will guide me right past you
without getting caught in the light

i'll slip right through your fingers
as my hair would slip through yours
using every new millimeter of every follicle
to remind me how long I can be strong for

the next time i see you, sweet dream
you won't even recognize me, i pray
i can only hope my heart won't be made of stone,

and just maybe

you'll be in the mood to talk to strangers that day

i never have liked uppercase i's
i know it's absolutely stupid
but they always make me feel more important than others
like i'm always saying I, I, I.

see even that was weird
way too many eyes
so i spend half my days, proofreading my lines
to make sure that i'm exactly the same size
as everyone else

when i first met you it absolutely blew me away
to find someone else who lowers their eyes
i'm serious, it's amazing to find someone who wastes as much time as yourself
hitting backspace, and
cursing auto-correct for not allowing this behavior

but after a while i noticed you stopped with the i's
maybe it was around the time **** got weird
maybe it was a fad; or i have some absurd superstition
but it's cool
You always were the bigger person, anyway.

i have visions of you sleeping well
in a dim-lit room, half-furnished house
these visions once told me you were alone, and cold
and this house... it wasn't a home

i had visions of you dreaming of me
longing for the few days, in which you return to me
sleeping on a mattress is never of ease
but not so bad when you have loving to look forward to

now here in my sleepless cavern those visions have changed
i still see you dreaming in sweet peace
but with another's arms wrapped around you
and this house is more furnished than i had thought

i no longer have visions of you coming home
with a smile on your face, and sweet treats in your hands
heart shaped budds and the sweetest finger hash
are no longer gifts, but regular occurrences

not since you told me, the way you think of me has changed
it's no longer good thoughts about our psychedelic whirlwind of a journey
but of the times we went awry

i'll never know what happened for those 3 days after we spent the night
i hope your phone died and wish that was the whole story
but these visions of you sleeping in a more-furnished house

make me think that house is now more of a home.

believe it or not there was a time
when my spirits were so high;
i soared on the warm currents of life
like an albatross with no direction needed for home

for most of my life i had believed
that i was the only person i need;
that nobody could bring my spirit
crashing down on the cold rigid shoreline

but i was wrong

i met the most wonderful girl.
let's call her beautifully broken
a soul that had been re-shaped;
had been twisted, tormented, from the inside
but had now chosen to display the most beautiful, perpetual smile.

she told me faintly about her past;
how it had beat her down, but she fought back
with every fibre in her little body
just to be happy like she deserves

maybe it was the way she wrote love stories on her arms
tales of bittersweet endings, that will never disappear
they fade, but remain forever
as if to say "real love sees no end"

i've never dealt well with blood
since the time my leg erupted like a volcano
this is why i still haven't cleaned her spill from my bathroom floor
and i move in 6 days.

i didn't know what it was like, to be her.
to hurt so bad.
to feel a pain that only subdues when she tattoo'd herself
as a constant reminder of our struggles

she told me she's absolutely fine
her inner battle has ceased
her freshest mark, like a line through my name
was the last one, to say the least

the thing is i believe her.
she may be little, but with a mind so beautiful, so strong
there is no more room for agony in that tiny body

this is why i'll help take it away
i'll be the sponge that ***** in all of the negative, the sadness, and hate

i have never felt this way in my life
and i believe my time has come.
to feel the weight of the world bearing down on me
slowly bringing my soaring, gliding soul
down toward the shore

i will take the weight
of your saddened years gone by
i will let it crush my insides
until these wings no longer fly

i only want her to be free
to soar on these warm currents of life
but i must absorb more pain and sever all my ties

because it's so hard to fly
when you have a dead, rotting albatross
hanging around your neck.

i'm all burnt out now
even though harsh winter's done
my chest is still tight

sometimes she would stand in my doorway
bright blue lace ******* that she knew were my favourite
and a little white shirt that was just a bit too small.

she'd enter my room ever so gently, after brushing her teeth in the morning
and pass me a stick of gum
to sweeten the taste of red wine and beer from the night before.

she would stand there in the doorway, with the cutest smirk on her dimpled cheek
and give her ***** a shake

as if to say
"yeah I'm cute, but how do you like me now?"

(she was always watching in the mirror anyway)

i would lay there and smile, and extend my reach
as she lightly pounced into my arms, and my bed

as if to say
"welcome home, sweetheart."
even though we'd just spent the night drunkenly dreaming

and warming each other's souls.

she would rest there smiling as i looked down from above
and tucked her hair behind her ears

i would kiss her 3 times;  on her third-eye and on her crown.

once because i loved her.
and twice more in case she didn't feel it the first time.

some days there was a look of wonder
an unknown amazement shining from her eyes

a look so indescribable, i can't help but think she wasn't real

couldn't have been real

but here she was beneath me.

staring up at me, as if i had the power to magically whisk us away, to a far away place

and here i am, convincing myself she wasn't real.

this is why i can't have nice things.

It's all in your head
Those whispers of revenge
That soothe your racing heart
Making it hard to swallow

You’re safe and sound
While you watch your friends
Hit the ground
You let them down again

Raise up
To your call of praise
To hand out those weapons
Which make them feel brave

Forget who you really are
Wear the mask of your disguise
Turn your head before you shoot the gun
And never look them in the eyes

You played the game once again
But the game is now your goal
You can take lives, but the victims instead
Take a bigger part of your soul

Your eyes of stone look soft to me
I can read what’s on your mind
It seems you’ve decided once again
To **** one of your own kind

It's all in your head
Those voices who ****
Who draw out your weapon
And give you their will

They’re safe and sound
Resting face first on the ground
Who dug this early grave for them?

Stand tall
Hold your head up high
Hold that gun in your hand
Bear no life in your eyes

Forget who you really are

It's all in your head

if there is one sure act to rekindle your inner peace, start by placing your hands upon the earth. feel the heartbeat of mother nature; accept her grace that travels up your arms as you reach into the soil. let the soft dirt be your beautiful mind and the seeds be your hopes, thoughts, and dreams.

you will feel a connection - an overwhelming sense of déjà-vu, like you have been here before; like you belong here. this is home.

i believe that god and mother nature know each other well, that they live inside everything that grows. be patient, and you will soon see them extending their arms out from the earth to You, bearing open hands full of fruits and flowers for Your soul.

a shadow of a man, i am
to walk this earth thinking i am worth something
to think my soul has any value
when it has been proven that i am nothing but floating particles

what a cynic, i am
to believe i know the value of something
to put an investment in something so intimate
when it has been proven that i only knew the asking price

a blind man, i am
to see things the way they are
and not the way they ought to be

i pray for the quietest death
as i don't want to disturb others
a silence to the groans that come from my deep within
and a sigh as i release my final note

i wish for the quietest death
a euthanized extinction
my throat is raw from the mightiest of roars
my claws; dull at the tips

your love still rings in my ears
a torment I can never cease
i lay still, night after night
begging the invisible heavens, please;

somebody slip me the quietest death
nobody needs to know
i'd do anything to see you one last time
and kiss your lips before i go

i will lay still.
i will not make a sound.
i will be subdued.

i would die to never see you again.

Remember when
we were so comfortable
underneath the mid day sun
at one of our favourite festivals

the bands had long stopped
but the music still danced in our hearts
lifting our spirits to the heavens
and giving praise to this beautiful day.

we had all gathered together
but not to say goodbye;

to lay in the sweet grass
and
hold on, by the tips of our fingers
for just a few more hours...
and

get a little high

with the sun's rays ablaze and
no current riding our open backs
your skin was like wildfire
captivating, shimmering in the light

those UV rays got nothin' on you

i laid at your side with a bag
filled of sweet & sticky treats
..an archive of sorts
and asked what was your tongue's favourite taste

the finest of delights fit for a queen
sometimes require a perfect surface
and the way your black hair glimmered that day
i couldn't help but see you
as my little Cleopatra

your curves creating shadows
upon the dimples of your back
i asked if you'd mind, with a zig-zag in my hand

and you looked at me.

and you smiled.

love has turned to frustration
and little things have begun to collect
like plastic floating in the whirl-pooling currents of the ocean

a small raft built to protect myself
to stay afloat
after treading, nearly drowning in the swirling masses
keeping my nose to the air
to breathe our oxygen

searching for ways to recycle a synthetic past into raw, earthy tones
dreaming of ways to live gently
and soothe a conscience full of unknown, hidden foes

one moments glance at the jungle of hardened polymers shining in the crusted sunlight -
i begin to realize they are not garbage, but gold

to be re-shapeable, to be reusable; is this not better than gold?
to keep firm and true to ones self, while being agile and accommodating, is this not worth much more?

to have a 75 year half-life;
slow, deteriorating, dissolving decomposition.

or to be re-formed. replenished.

you can recycle the past.

karma woke up
said she's restless
picked up my arm
to see if i'd notice

karma woke up
said she can't take this
"its not what i asked for,
why don't you care?"

i woke karma up
on the wrong side of bed
she left me for good
left me for dead

i played her for a fool
lied right to her eyes
i ****** around with karma
or at least i tried

(she said)
"believe in me or don't,
but don't use me.
you kept your mind,
but forgot about me.

how could you do that?
make me feel so naive.
every time things are good
you **** up and i leave."

i woke karma up
on the wrong side of bed
broke her heart
with what i never said

karma woke up
on my side of bed
she left me for good
left me for dead.

i'm wasted on the girl i love
the buzz ended long ago
but i dream of being sober again
because this hangover will certainly **** me

i'm high from her eyes
and her smile it gets me ripped
but some days i get carried away
and the burnout makes me want to quit

so hit me with another round
shot by shot, i'm alone
somebody, please, call a cab
'cause i can't make make it on my own

love poisoning has got the best of me
lay me down before i fall
because love itself is more addicting than coke
and losing it; worse than withdrawl.

i have experienced the warmth
i have felt the breeze of love touch my life
but i am still young
and i still need the soothing sensation

i have been brought down by life
kicked and beaten to the curb
the warmth turns blue
like the sky, and the tears from my eyes

around the corner i can sense the warmth
curled up in a bed, underneath the covers
i can hear the warmth cry for me
but i can no longer be selfish

for i am still young
and like air, the warmth will circulate
bringing love to other places
and i must hold on

when i feel cold and selfish
false blankets and covers may bring me warmth
but i know the truth
a warmth will return to me, in time.

it takes a real proud man to make a girl cry hard. most things a girl can cry off in ten minutes. Tough things. Like giving birth to big *** babies with their big *** heads and ****. But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the deepest cries. Ones that come from the most hurt-felt part of a woman's soul. Ones that make your eyes close and your stomach sick. Ones that make your whole body freeze, and all you can think is, "i am responsible for this unbearable pain, on such a gentle woman's soul."

i am a master of this art. i have learned the call of the lone woman; almost a swan song, of a dying gentle soul begging to be heard. Begging, for the one who can save her to act before she drowns; to do anything but stand there and stare. Anything but let her die this lonesome death just out of reach of his arms.

i have a recipe for hurt. tested and tried thoroughly over the years, i can now say it is perfected. i can hurt beautiful souls and shatter their wonderful dreams, then so simply turn it around to make it sound like it was their fault. one may say this is a fine delicacy. i say it is the recipe to feed lost souls. ones who will be lost in limbo for all eternity because even in death, their pride was still too big for the afterlife.

there is a special talent i have that is unique for mastering the art of hurt. like x-ray vision it is a power to bring out, in other people, what they don't want anyone to see. i can bring out the worst in a beautiful soul faster than you can look in someone's eyes. i can make monsters of magnificent beings, then call them crazy and be on my way.

Leaving behind a faded tye-dye that's left to hang dry in the sun, knowing that her colours will never shine as bright as they once did, ever again.

.