I am the faceless man.
I listen to the earth, yet i cannot hear it.
I watch the earth yet i cannot see it.
I feel the earth, though i cannot touch it.
For faceless i may be, but a man i remain,
And man has yet to clean what they stain.
Thus i remain faceless
And ageless with time.
For this faceless face is mine,
and faceless is who i am...
I am the faceless man.

I see a falling feather
And were it not for this weather
I could keep its beauty in my eye

Its thrown back and forth
Pulled south and north,
Its dancing in the sky

It dances with grace
Its light lights my face
Oh how I wish I could fly

But I cannot
My arms are all I’ve got
And now I must say goodbye

I am ugly,
A useless wreckage of man,
Though I cry
None offer their hand,

None really care
For the dirt on which they walk,
Dirt such as me,
Maggots that can talk,

But do not have
What is called a voice,
Many things to want
But barely given choice,

Of all that I am
I am overweight,
I feel so disgusting
As I’m eating from this plate,

I feel my empty heart
Carrying an empty hole,
Looking for the comfort
That discomfort stole,

I am ashamed
Of being exactly me,
I am an utter disappointment
That disappointed eyes see,

It would fix nothing
By living or dying,
It seems my only ability
Is to sit here crying,

Worthless hearts
Were never meant to be,
So does that mean
A worthless heart is...
...is me?

her words are beautiful
as is her smile
for a while there i couldn't stand
my mind was lost in another land
i had no idea how this would feel
it was so sublime and so unreal
too bad i was only ever a passing cloud in her sky
that's how i was born and that's how I'll die

Life can seem so still sometimes,
So silent to itself,
So distant from only you
And close to everyone else,

So lonely on a quiet day,
Especially without the rain,
No sounds to hear
And remind you of love or pain,

That’s true loneliness...
Having nothing at all,
No happiness, nor sorrow,
No true love to recall,

No warmth, no cold,
Not even a breeze,
At times
I just drop to my knees

And I beg,

I beg for feeling,
Good or bad,
It doesn’t matter
Because neither I’ve had,

And when feeling doesn’t come,
And nothingness remains all that I know,
Nothingness becomes my heart…
And nothingness becomes my soul…

whats the way
of the heart that's broken?
love woven into many things
and many strings dance through the heart,
a part of life that's torn
and worn by the strength of a needle,
such feeble hands with which to feel
the painfully real earthquake of sorrow
in which tomorrow doesn't seem very bright
and the night just seems too so dark
that a mark of sadness takes over
like a four leaf clover so impossible to find
and in your mind you don't mean a **** thing

the rhyme has to be on time
like a fight
you gotta hit just right
wether in the day or night
either way its gotta be tight
your fist must take flight
when you hit at the height
of your strength
with posture and length
and it smashes and crashes
into the face of the human race
where you leave your mark
and then you embark
on a road where you sold
your shame for honor
a time when you honestly thought you were a goner
and then in the long years to pass
your body will one day return to the grass
and your memory will live in infamy and time
to the days where your memory will be so great and so sublime
so that when your rhyme continues to age
you'll be set upon the stage
before the gates of heaven
and on the 59th minute of eleven
just one minute before the end
you'll have one more message to send
and as the seconds are counting down
with eyes and immortality watching all around
you look up from the ground
you hear not a sound
and as the last second fades away
you open your moth to say...