Everybody’s going nowhere and I am far gone I can’t even see the ocean the motion was all wrong Just a sea of broken bottles and cigarette models On the floor, so high I had to clean the sky Never been an existentialist, cynic, or a pessimist Just another body on the edge of metamorphosis Clinging to a rope I hope will not snap Like my neck if I hit the ground, oh crap! I’m apocalyptic fresh and I can’t say why If I do it’s a lie, see the needle in my eye? Meditation, preparation, or a conscious legislation Couldn't help the fact my words are often littered with abrasions As if shock rock poetry could save me from my death It could possibly enlighten but I wouldn't hold my breath Now I’m frightened by the notion of a new world order But anarchy is hip if you’re on this side of the border I digress, what a mess if you know what I mean But I've burned out quicker than gasoline…