The thankful eat what they can,
The never enoughs send back every plate

People need people

Masters need servants

Servants don't need masters

The wants have because they have wants,
Beggars can't choose but they don't choose to beg

I wanted to hold you babe you know it's true
But when I wanted to hold you
You never had a clue
Now you want my hand
I'd like to give it to you
But I met someone else and she knows me better than you do
Bad timing poor luck missed the bus got hit by a truck
Now we're at a cross roads neither of us is to blame
someday down the line maybe our drums will beat the same
Cause babe I wanted to hold you
Now you want the same
Always with someonelese now you know the burnin in my brain
There's time for dreaming missing out on life's ***** games
It was no fun seming like we were on the same page
The tables have turned darling new time clocks been set
I've always loved you don't worry that's not a threat

The queen in the castle wants to be like everyone else
Everyone wants to be the queen
Happiness can be bought
And frequently is by
the  normal people, the ones not fit for ruling.
Filling  their apartments with appointments
Building two room castles
TVs nightstands paintings books clothes china
Store bought elegance in place of gold plated mirrors and servants
The queen is confused that anyone would want to be her.  
Everyone else can't understand why she doesn't want to be queen

Locked in bed
stomach in my throat
Empty in my head
Prisoner to a parasite
Picked up on a late night
Throwing up nothing but wicked thoughts and forcing blood to the thin barrier of skin
A living sack keeping my life in
Though id rather it just let out give up give in fade from the sun and find eternal delight in knowing nothing and giving up on life
Not giving in, no suicide isnt an option, just a dream of dreaming eternal
Thinking would be over
Caring would be done
Wanting would be a memory
Needing would be a foreign feeling
It's an option and that's fine if it wasn't I'd feel trapped and really want to die
( I love life don't get me wrong, some days though could be skipped)

He kicked over the cup cursed himself
It was the end of the dark green bottlei
A new stain for the carpet, a constellation of spills
Blood ***** and liquids

Walk to the train take the ride downtown
Missing old friends
Maybe a few are around
Most have moved off to a sunny seaside town
The fireman wail past toward an unknown fire
He follows the sounds and flashing light
To the heat and the light of fire in night
It's an apartment building
Breathing flames
Looking at the destruction
Makes him thankful for the carpet stains

I was walking up a hill writing a song when I passed a man with drumsticks and glasses on.
I stopped him and asked "wanna be my band?" He tilted his head and said "I'd be glad to keep time and accent your rhymes!" So off we rolled toward
downtown sound a magical haven for the musically inclined.
We talked to the owner (she's beautiful and free and everything that brings happiness to me) and she said "sure your traveling act can stop for the night knock out your rythms and make everyone feel alright".
checked the levels warmed the tubes and
so we did and it was spontaneous and from the fingers
the sounds were off and out of time
loud and alive with a dense misunderstood honesty
as soon as it started it was over
the man with the glasses and wood bit drumsticks we  shook hands and parted ways
the kick of his drum follows my steps i hope i meet that man again

She smiles while she sleeps and it makes me happy for a second knowing someone can find the sun in the dark side of time
In this endless division of multiplied layers to keep out opinion wind join the work force be a team player head held high as you bury your spirit in the ground
Sacrifice yourself  to stay with the breathing the couch ridden children of no parent praise mystified by misuse
Ever day is a reminder that another has passed
The turnstile  smiles are abandoned ghost guests  try again tomorrow I guess
Fight with words written to corrall the pain I look over and notice where my sweet love is laying and the sun begins to shine in the middle of my night I don't mind saying its all gonna be alright

Sirens whine in
Dog howls fade out
It's cold I can see
My breath
In the breeze
Of
Pre winter morning
Or
Post summer late night

The sign sun stains in the duct taped window advertising gainful employment in a part time pay by the hour washer deryer upstairs hair stylist crumbling 1960s salon.
Chipped white washed paint draws in the custom customers  offering permanates in every style and yesterday's hair of tomorrow "put it on today don't worry about it till tomorrow! The doors open to a bell and hairspray smell, something that might catch fire in a spark or cancer the lungs.
  The smock and name tag carry home the hairspray scent and ghost in store radio fades the ears from sleep. The bed reminds you of the pay check though so you push it all aside.  
Help wanted wanted help  to get out of the make me want to die lifestyle