I'm pretty much up for this
Fairly down with that
Waiting for Sunday
To give it a rest

Fast forward in motion
On the move on the go
Will I ever learn
It's okay to say no

How much more can I take
As good as anyone's guess
Waiting for Sunday
To give it a rest

Running in place
Tired on my feet
If I had known
Would I be in this deep

On this spinning wheel
Ready to wreak
Waiting for Sunday
For a much-needed rest

It all starts off simple enough
All it takes is just one puff
Before you careen down the road to extreme
Every single addict knows what I mean

It won't hurt a bit to take a sip
You might even get to liking it
Before you know you're full fledge in the throe
Of the one place you swore you'd never go

It might start off as a prayer request
Have you heard about, you won't believe this
Both gossip and slander can be a heavy load
Don't take the road of what you don't know

There are times we might need to relax
But more often than not it becomes laziness
Expecting others to carry your load
Take responsibility for all that you owe

At all times be on your guard
It's easy to fool a wanting heart
Like a roaring lion Satan wants complete control
Ready to devour your soul

Don't give the Devil a foothold

haven't seen it in the movies
never read it in a book
and if you don't believe me
feel free to take a look

isn't plastered on a billboard
high above the boulevard
neither have I seen it
written in the stars

it never once made an appearance
on the channel MTV
or a show with Jacques Cousteau
at the bottom ocean deep

never felt it in the wind
or the chill inside my bones
rolling up a hill
or in a crowd alone

isn't poured out from a bottle
with a *****-top or a cork
though sometimes when it's spoon fed
you can eat it with a fork

what it is I'm trying to find
either will or won't
be the perfect line
on which to end this poem

Little Bobby Norton
Disappeared that cold Winters night
No one saw it coming
But none were that surprised

There had always been the rumors
Floating round these parts for years
Still nothing does hit harder
Than a womans desperate tears

Rumors from the children
Spoke of haunted woods just past dusk
And the thing about little Bobby
Is he'd always been curious

The town brought in the trackers
Who showed up with hound dogs
Bringing assurance to the masses
They'd stop at no cost

With underlying whispers
They'd bring him back dead or alive
Spent the night looking for clues
Hoping for some sort of sign...

As I tell this story
Fourteen years have long gone past
They never did find Bobby
And sadly, he wasn't the last

You hear every so often
Another kid does not come home
Yet no one goes out searching
They've found it's best if left alone

All the parents can do is try
But sometimes it's not enough
Cause just like little Bobby Norton
Some kids are just curious

If I only knew...
This would be my last day
Here on this solid ground
Before I go away

If I only knew...
This was our last kiss
Would this moment be
Any different than this

If I only knew...
What tomorrow brings
Would it change my attitude
On most everything

If I only knew...
Or at least had a clue
Would I try and think twice
On all that I do

If I only knew...
A question so often asked
Would I follow through
Or again let it pass

If I only knew...

if you never hear the other side
of the argument
how do you expect to turn the tide
on those you suppose are listening

if you stay inside your bubble
underneath moss covered stone
the ideas you live with
will eventually die with you alone

if you take your crooked fingers
and jam them in your ears
you have made it clear
that you refuse to hear

how can i try and simplify
that ignorance is bliss
and you my friend are blissfully ignorant
if you play a part in this

if the direction that you choose
begs from you an ounce of truth
with dead-end sign in plain sight
it might be you that has no clue

and all because you refuse
to see beyond the hate in you

this house in which you live
the one your soul calls home
you find that it is best kept
together with muscle, gristle, and bone

it could use a coat of paint
as you watch it age
try and spruce it up a bit
before you're forced to draw the shades

there was once a safe
that held your memories
long ago lost the combo to the lock
and can't remember where you placed the key

in the old neighborhood
you find you're not alone
your friends for years have camped out here
and you're all too tired to get much done

all this as you sit inside this house
the one your soul lives in
waiting for the landlord
to come by and collect the rent