Forgive me for what I'm not 
For I know not what I become 
Traded places syncing faces jaded
By the lovers lusting rust. 
It was far more then beautiful 
But to livid to be love 
Retract as the instincts we lack are 
Driven out by the fevers we hunt.

for the prettiest goat in all the world
I would vote for you for president
of the blagosphere

As grass grew taller,
The wild cats could stalk their prey;
But not chihuahuas.

For too long,
have I stood on this edge;
Cruel winds hollowing my back,
tempting the beyond.

For too long,
have I stood on this edge;
The Keepers' hand tight on my arm,
tempting the beyond.

For too long,
have I stood on this edge;
For the promised days' arrival,
tempting the beyond.

The problem with bright futures
Is that they grow as dull as everything else.
They too collect dust,
Hold every speck of dirt they can find -
Until you wake one morning and realise you are trapped.

See the walls have crept closer
And the ceilings leant down to hug the floor.
But they're only there to support you,
Because they love you so,
And they do not see their embrace can crush.

Wide awake with my feelings intact
rather, they are sort of like a tac.
On the bottom of my feet,
forcing their way into my flesh with every step.
In fact my feelings are like a cage with tiny grates
that allow me to see everything, excluding the full picture.
I want to forget what it's like to feel, or care.
My sanity lies in a world where I am unattached,
but that is like moving a beach one grain of sand at a time.
When I recall your words, it is never quite in verbatim
always using my own language to sugar coat
or, more commonly, assume you the worst.
It is not what it is
it never is, we all know that