People always clap for the wrong reasons,
And the best at ****** are those who preach against it.  
Evil is not intrinsic. It’s fashioned.  
I believe in ghosts, but we create them. We haunt ourselves.  
There’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out.  
I talk to God but the sky is empty;
This love is silent.  
It’s exponentially bigger than you think;
It’s what you feel, but can’t articulate out loud.  

Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle.  
And neither the angels in the heaven above nor the demons down under the sea
Or the ghosts inside of me
Ever told me that grief felt so like fear.  
It’s easier to floss with barbed wire than
Admit that we love evil too well to give it up.  
Youth is a blunder, old age a regret;
But you cannot find peace by avoiding life.  

Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
To struggle against this stupidity,  
I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.  
The troublemakers are just a handful,  
And if our times are difficult and perplexing,
We become what we think.
The earth has music for those who listen;
There are times when the wolves are silent and the moon is howling.  
Nature is a haunted house—but Art—
Is not a thing, it is a way;
A parasitic on life.  
It is easy to fool the eye,
But art is the lie that enables us to realize the truth.  
We are killing a part of our souls
Every whisper of every waking hour,
And none of it seems real to me,
But everyone’s to blame.