Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art—
    Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
    Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
    Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
    Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
    Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
    Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

This pain that digs deep,
deep down inside –
it’s one squeeze of a lemon
and one pinch of salt
rubbed, no, massaged
in a raw, sore scar.

You are
a masochistic habit,
an addiction at that.
A shot of *****,
blades on wrists –
death request à la mode.

When I was young and bold and strong,
Oh, right was right, and wrong was wrong!
My plume on high, my flag unfurled,
I rode away to right the world.
"Come out, you dogs, and fight!" said I,
And wept there was but once to die.

But I am old; and good and bad
Are woven in a crazy plaid.
I sit and say, "The world is so;
And he is wise who lets it go.
A battle lost, a battle won--
The difference is small, my son."

Inertia rides and riddles me;
The which is called Philosophy.

The re-creation,
of a nation from hell.
But we only,
care about ourselves.

We cannot seem,
to unite as one.
And when we do,
it's by use of gun.

We are no stronger than,
we like to pretend we are.
We're falling apart at the seams,
the Untied States of America.

The world is looking,
for a brand new savior.
The Statue of Liberty,
needs someone to save her.

Every time we re-build,
chaos follows.
We can't correct our mistakes,
our minds are hollow.

We are no stronger than,
we like to pretend we are.
We're falling apart at the seams,
the Untied States of America.

Can we re-build?
Can we restart?
Can we re-program,
mans once great heart?

Can we unite?
Can we be one?
Or are we blind,
from looking into the sun?

We are no stronger than,
we like to pretend we are.
We're falling apart at the seams,
the Untied States of America.