Feb 2014
Submerged in a life of hermitage
People keep on wondering
Wondering about the lines inside of his mind
The varying dimensions that split his perspective
People keep pondering, studying his dividing scar
People keep analyzing his palms that constricted bars
An escaped felon, a potential villain
He keeps to himself and avoids any bother
His conversations are limited to matters of importance
His jokes are psychotic but always stream a spark of wisdom
But what happened to his face? What happened to the purity that cannot be replaced?
He sees things most people don’t
He courts mostly older women
And he sits alone in biker bars
He changes jobs every season
And skips town without a reason
In solitude he weeps tiny and limited drops of tears
He listens to blue and classical music
He collects old coins and rare rocks
But what is the story? The story behind the scar
…. Maybe he lost all his loved ones
Maybe his lover cheated on him with his best friend
Maybe he witnessed someone die
Maybe he went to prison for something he didn’t do
Or perhaps he was the victim of some kind of child abuse
But I will tell you what I see deep in his fiery eyes
This is a man who wrestled all the lies
Of his life
This is a man who went to war with the Darkness and defeated it
This is a man who stood up to a tyrant
This is a man who was not celebrated
A man who was undone for the unit he served
The man with the broken Face is you and I
As we commit to live and die
Without ever daring to try
To search for what’s in our hearts and not what’s written in this dictatorship rhyme
To search for our purpose
To dig our roots and find our truth
But we sell our souls when we’re in our youth
And we blame the devil that it is a precious life that he took
And the more we deny ourselves of who we truly are
The more broken our faces
The more we escape the depth and infinity of the Universe, the more we deny the existence of other races
The more we deny rising above limited academic knowledge, the more we’re tied by those pages
The more helpless we are the more we hunger for sages
And all we’re building up is breaking down, slowly becoming the man with the broken face
And when the lies crumble it will be the falling of the lace
And for our identity we will feel compelled to trace
Something that no malicious power can erase.
People keep on wondering
Wondering about the lines inside of his mind
The varying dimensions that split his perspective
People keep pondering, studying his dividing scar
People keep analyzing his palms that constricted bars
An escaped felon, a potential villain
He keeps to himself and avoids any bother
His conversations are limited to matters of importance
His jokes are psychotic but always stream a spark of wisdom
But what happened to his face? What happened to the purity that cannot be replaced?
He sees things most people don’t
He courts mostly older women
And he sits alone in biker bars
He changes jobs every season
And skips town without a reason
In solitude he weeps tiny and limited drops of tears
He listens to blue and classical music
He collects old coins and rare rocks
But what is the story? The story behind the scar
…. Maybe he lost all his loved ones
Maybe his lover cheated on him with his best friend
Maybe he witnessed someone die
Maybe he went to prison for something he didn’t do
Or perhaps he was the victim of some kind of child abuse
But I will tell you what I see deep in his fiery eyes
This is a man who wrestled all the lies
Of his life
This is a man who went to war with the Darkness and defeated it
This is a man who stood up to a tyrant
This is a man who was not celebrated
A man who was undone for the unit he served
The man with the broken Face is you and I
As we commit to live and die
Without ever daring to try
To search for what’s in our hearts and not what’s written in this dictatorship rhyme
To search for our purpose
To dig our roots and find our truth
But we sell our souls when we’re in our youth
And we blame the devil that it is a precious life that he took
And the more we deny ourselves of who we truly are
The more broken our faces
The more we escape the depth and infinity of the Universe, the more we deny the existence of other races
The more we deny rising above limited academic knowledge, the more we’re tied by those pages
The more helpless we are the more we hunger for sages
And all we’re building up is breaking down, slowly becoming the man with the broken face
And when the lies crumble it will be the falling of the lace
And for our identity we will feel compelled to trace
Something that no malicious power can erase.
