The house I live on rests
Upon a naked hill
Stained a dark brown and red
From the yellow bleeding sun

The wind doth not pass here
The chill is a constant sore
The morning breaks at mid day
The only sounds are of snores

Stirring underneath the dirt
Are worms pink and wriggling for warmth
Flowers bloom, die, much like us
Destined to fight the rusty silver cuffs

A waking dream transparent to the eyes
In a manic haze lined with grainy realism
We push through the rubble filled streets
Every day every hour every minute once more

We are a mystery even to ourselves
An introduction never properly given
Drinks of gold glitter near chairs splintered wood
A bomb burns through the drunks
Who chant out "One day they should...!"

Stabbing these questions in the dark
A fight for reason worth ah' dignity
Battling meaning while whistling and
Whispering words all demeaning

Hear the tick of the wooden clock
The metal springs break my silence
Echoes of the past move forward
A nod of the head allows its entry

Confounded by the pounds of
Rubble that I feel are inside my skull
A heavy sluggishness that recognizes the future
But wishes to have it another way

Tantamount hurtles that keep my eyes
Sagging to the concrete cobbled walkway
I tell myself life is here for you and I
But something tells me there is something further

Am I wrong with these questions?
Have I entered into a forest that will soon be set aflame?
Where is the exit to this maze? And if
I do not find it, what will happen to I?

I I I I I I I
Oh' selfish self-centered catacombs of fat fingers
Dusty spider web worries, wimpy and always whining
I I I I I I I

Only I among the scurrying madness
The coins drop to the floors, million reach forth
Stabbing their ego's with their numbness
Man's mind has grown weak with
The passing of time and a world weary gaze

Help is not here, no only this lamp light is
Passing souls of ghosts long forgotten
Pinned up in an honor they never asked for
Ink in the stale pages of history books
Handed out for the dropped out and soon to be
Forgotten or remembered with light enthusiasm

Each shelf is lined with our lives
The dust gathers much like the dirt
Upon our wooden coffin in a graveyard
We would never visit if we weren't forced too

Force of nature;
What a ticket! Clipped and
Slipped into our back pocket as
The God's smiled and we nodded in ignorant thankfulness

Brash agreement as we struggle
To make sense of the
Physical and non-physical world
Wavering with the madness but intellectually as simple
As a floating leaf upon a still water pond

Favoring our own thoughts
Over the others though
We are all in this together and
Those thoughts are the only tool
To keep us from shooting ourselves

Or hanging ourselves

Or walking on the other side of the road

How fast we learn to hate
The one's we truly love
How quick we learn to turn our heads
In indifference while the other's stare

What a game life is!

What a merry go round ride!

Lo' until we see

The dice we hold

The seat wit sit upon

Is only

Our own