A crystal cup came spilling dreams on my carpet
The fallen stars of modern saints
Sprawled out with nothing to say
                                                                     [Seeming to have meaning
                                                                            aint as easy as it seems
                                                                       and Love makes me a fool
                                                                               surrounded by a flock]
All these dreams in all these containers,
the symbols aren't lost on me
since I don't have the nightmares
where I can't wipe up the stain
of melted woes, and shadow foes
drunken in the sunlight
I fight my demons on own time
                                                                 While spinning out from the center of luminous jewel saint
                                                                                 rhymes, we dream as we fall asleep
                                                                                              and it all seems real to our minds
Go on home kid, there's nothing left for you here
just a broken typewriter and a sullen sense of gratitude,
there's nothing more
still, he can't seem to stay away from the scene of the crime
                                                                                                            [This is so often the mistake we make]
The same things repeat endlessly
                         and I'd like to change the wave I make in time,
not anything one could surf on, but something substantial
                         from the bottom of my heart ocean throbbing coral reef,
poolside tides are the flavor of the weak

Wavering slaves build bridges underneath
a powerful dam and
                                           [I'd like to just say here that I"ve never considered harnessing the power              
                                            of man to build monuments and skyscrapers, I'd prefer if we all just play  
                                                                                               in the dirt with smiles on our faces, shameless]
Regarding sentiments, rather than overzealous detriments,
our lives become a broken sentence spoken
by horses in jokes,
                                       and I'm
always the nihilest, oh I can't believe that,
as if I'd like to get back to where I was
when I didn't know my head from my
heart, letting the latter flounder the former
and vice versa, tangling tendons
and mangling veins into the shape
of chariot's reigns,                                            I drive a gold hearse
                                                                                  through the mountain range
                                                                                  while death is back there at my doorstep,
                                                                                  I left a note at my place
                                                                                  saying, "come back later,
                                                                                                                                      I've sailed away"
                                                                                  
                                                                                  Truth be told, I never intended to stay