The trees scream at to him stop;
For they can sense the danger,
But still he moved on, undeterred,
That poor lost man, the Ranger.
Deeper, deeper, deeper still.
The woods grow ever stranger.
But still he wanders, undeterred,
That poor dead man, the Ranger

Growls and snarls emerge from the East,
It’s a mess of teeth and claws.
The land there is ruled by savage beats,
With scaly skin and gaping maws.
The West is nothing but sunstroke,
Barren hills of lost bones and sand.
Such great heat it turns air to smoke,
With evershifiting pieces of land.
The South shivers with warfare;
Bullet shells litter the streets.
Shots ring out and sirens blare,
In a mess of broken hearts and concrete.
But we will stand strong against any threat,
Brace ourselves when evil steps forth.
We’ll cut our loses and pay our debts,
Before we march our souls to the North.

We will build Rome in a matter of hours,
Prop the sky up on steel and glass towers,
Stain the seas black with our need for oil,
Burn the earth and watch the oceans boil.
Inject the earth with chemical solutions,
Draw its blood for economic transfusions.
These walls will reach such an astounding height;
They’ll block out the sky and all the sunlight.
And how we justify setting the world on fire?
“All this was done for the good of the Empire.”
But eventually it will crumble; only ashes will remain.
And the Rome that we’ve built will have been built in vain.

Lately?
Lately I've been walking a tightrope
Torn between what I should and what I can
I like the suspension,
Postponing my decision.
It’s a nice way to stall.
But I know eventually I'll fall,

Lately, I've been falling I'm love with you
And falling out of it
Then in again
Then out
Bargaining with my own heart
And begging my mind to start,
Forgetting you.
But my organs don't listen to me anymore
Not since I rung the ink out of my lungs
And dried out my skin to paper
So I could write your name seven hundred names over
Until the manoeuvre was as automatic as a blink
And I think,
I’m almost there.

Lately I've been confused.
About reality
About dreams
And that fine line between
Where one stops does the other start?
Are there shades of gray between, the white of your mind and the black of the real?
Or is there a gap
A pause
Before you switch from one to the other
Where you replay your surrealisms and start to dread the god-awful monotony that will soon come
Because it WILL come
It will.

Lately I've been rehearsing my epitome;
She withdrew (or)
a creator (or)
The world's greatest admirer of you.

Lately I've been acquiring addictions;
A series of self-inflicted afflictions
The smoke burns my Esophagus.
I’ve just about had enough of this.

You ask me what I’ve been up to, lately,
And my mind immediately begins debating,
Against itself, against all of me,
Whether or not to tell you everything.
To confide in you,
The darkness in me.
Or lie to you,
Like I always do.
But the moment passes quickly,
And I swallow rather thickly,
Before I open my mouth to speak,
And with my heart growing weak.
I say;
“I haven’t been doing much.”

Diamonds can’t dance,
And plastic can’t walk,
Glass can’t bend.
And concrete can’t talk.
There’s no guts,
But there’s also no glory.
Perfection’s so boring;
So let’s make a story