He's a knife with no bullets.

But I do know what time it was.

I write like a bull in a Chinese Restaurant.

When in doubt, look up.

Ramblings of a crazy man seem insane.

I'm lost but I'm not unlisted.

Why aren't cell phones permitted in jail cells?

If one looses his mind, does he find his keys?

Why are you reading this song?

If rabbits multiply, do cats taste good with pickles?

If this doesn't make sense, does it make change?

If the glass is half empty, who drank my beer?

If language is fun, explain French class.

If a dog is man's best friend, why can't he buy me a gift?

If I'm having a stroke, should I go swimming?

If I have a heart attack, should I fight back?

If two heads are better than one, why doesn't anyone want two heads?

If love feels like a punch in the gut, I'll ouch you lovingly

There isn't really any significance in our attempts
The sweater's string is being pulled as we continue to knit

But the string is unraveling and we are left only cold
The pasta on our plate is nothing but an appealing fake

So our bellies are empty and our shoulders are shivering
We lay there limply as we are slowly wrapped in our own string

Wrists and ankles bound by unfulfilled and color-coded dreams
An S & M horror show in the sheets with life, us, & we

Dancing like a jerky ballerina, eyes glazed over now
We used to know how to walk and talk, but we've forgotten how

So as puppets we are told that we are not cold nor hungry
And that everything is fine and everything is as it seems

So we smile, thinking our wooden houses can make us happy
We don't notice that everything is painted the same color

Or girls and boys look exactly like their fathers and mothers
And we are just waiting to be piled onto the dead heap

Of broken toys and broken dreams that sometimes plagues our deep sleep
That feeling when you get really sad sometimes, that's what that is

So cut your strings, and think some things, breathe out as human again
The puppeteer has no time to hear of a few strings snapping

He has his hands full keeping down the human spirit, you know?
And when he's sleeping, cut off his fingers and his little toes

I know you are worried because you are tiny and alone
But he can't do anything if he has nothing to control

If the blade is still ******, do not clean any of it off
Use the blood and blade to cut the strings and soak their wood awash

Wood stained red, breathe life again, their eyes light up with words unsaid
And the lonely alabaster trees are swaying in the breeze

Red streamers tied to the branches to signify what is free

If only someone really had the courage to cut the strings
*I could go for the gritty, teeth-biting, ******, anarchy.

Alone on the road today
Miles to wander to ponder
Hours to fuel the engine
With thoughts, conundrums
Pedal, perspire, perspective
Miles to wander to ponder
Visions of nature flash
Before my glazed eyes
Buds, bugs, and a streaming current
River rushing, birds flittering
Engine hammering pedals
Miles of beauteous nature
Miles of freedom and euphoria
Mile after mile of thoughts
And all I dreamed about
Was you
Mile after mile after mile
Of you