I am not a sheep
I am not a lamb
I will not docilate our race
That's just the way I am.

Humanity is a strange beast
we claim to be the sheep,
But for our Shepherd we do not weep

We are like the Hound
to the "Laws of Claw and Fang"* we are bound

We are a pack
Not a herd
Upon the weak we feed
Not upon those whom might attack.

So to call us a sheep
Is really quite absurd
For at least a sheep
Is safe in its loving herd

They tell you to quit smoking.
They tell you to quit drinking.
To quit laughing,
quit loving,
Living.
Because it shortens your life,
they tell you.
Because it's bad for your health,
they tell you.
Have a drink, friend,
have a smoke,
that's what's good for the soul.
Long walks at two in the morning
skipping stones over concrete oceans,
that's what's good for the soul.
Pretty women with pretty
legs, that say all sorts of
pretty things, but never too
loud, or too often, that's
what's good for the soul.
Watching as those pretty legs storm
out of the hotel room after
you said the wrong thing again. Fixing
up that last glass of
whiskey and enjoying it
alone instead. Fighting in
the back of bars over
spilled drinks or spilled
words or someone who slept
with someone else. That's
what's good for the soul.
To take a hit and to hit.
To love and to hate.
To live.
That's what's good for the soul.

He sits on the swing,
Watching the leaves fall from the trees.
He's scared but won't show it,
He's worried about his wife but won't let her know it.
He plays it off like he does not care,
And trys to run from his fears,
He hides his feelings behind a mask of tough, raw, meanness,
But he can not fool us.
We know how bad he's hurting, we can see through him and see the pain.
We just wish he would see how much we all love him.
Because everyone knows you can't fight cancer alone.

Am I trapped,
Or is this just the way to be?
Am I alive,
Or is this just some cosmic energy?
Am I happy,
Or is this lack of agony?
Am I sad,
Or is this how it should be?
Am I floating,
Or the world is flashing past me?
Am I flying,
Or the universe is revolving around me?
Am I thinking,
Or the thoughts are piercing me?
Am I writing,
Or are the words playing hide and seek?

I'd love to hop a train
To see where it goes

Close my eyes and sit back
Hear the wind blow

Watch the country flow by
I swim through the fields

I float through the valleys
Upon many wheels

Somewhere my journey
Will end I'm quite sure

I hope to end
Where the air is still pure

I feel partly alive
But mostly feel dead

Wish that that bullet
Didn't just graze my head

I stick me with needles
I snort up my nose

That's when I don't know
Where my mind really goes

At least it's not here
But somewhere at peace

I know that place
Is waiting for me

I'll be there soon
I try not to dwell

But the outlook for me
Does not look that well