On a trip to never-never- land.
the glass ceiling and bottomless plan
I'll never ever land.
Its all part of plan B, by the man,
My sound scans, in never-ever- land.
Never heard by another man.
Gave up on the game - now its
starting to show, on the other hand.
I got doubts, so I dream even more.
These odds against me - I never no
Praying to god, the only time I fold.
A real man, never overplaying my hand.
Bringing more to the table than a brand.
That's just the way it goes,
can’t help how the cards land,
let the facts show.
Time heals everything,
scars let it be shown. You,
let it be known.
The logos, go hand in hand
Two faces – four tone
I’m a standup guy,
On rocky land
Headed home.
First in my class,
last in my caste,
finishing last
now I’m king of the throne.

He envisions the Machine as a large locomotive
Of a deep, tainted, black metal chugging down and infinite track
The eternally glowing red hot coals pushing the pistons
A giant crimson cowcatcher is fixed at the front
Scraping up followers; forcing them into the vehicle
Manipulating Its passengers to smash their heads into the Machine
Welding their minds into Its mysterious black metal walls

Stained with the blood of many who have tried to resist
Ultimately wounded, maimed, outcaste from society
Forever marked, branded by the scars of their attempt
When the Machine has used you and-or your mind to Its purose
It shoves you into Its furnace—keeping the pistons turning
The Machine cannot be stopped—always picking up followers
Forcing you into It; becoming one with the Machine

As He looks into the engine room, there is no conductor
A runaway locomotive chugging down the track with no end
Its only goal: gathering as many passengers as possible
Society, Washington, the Media built the machine
Their brainchild, but have long since become a part of It
Their minds welded the deepest—becoming the foundation of Its walls
Long ago abandoning their carcasses to fuel their mighty creation

Because I'm scared, and, I guess
I have a lot of shame
And fear of shame
Which is sometimes worse
Because the only thing you can do about it
Is somehow stop being afraid
And how in the world do you stop being afraid?
Especially of something like shame
Shame is a fear
A fear of rejection
A fear of making mistakes
A fear of your true, self-centered soul being bared to mankind
You're afraid to be opened wide
Before the audience
All who watch you
You believe that if they ever saw the person you are on the inside
When you're alone
At your worst
When you're a failure at best
And outcaste at worst
Because they would!
They would scorn your soul!
No! No! Nothing but perfection can stand here!
You are horrible and we cannot tolerate anything but crystal
Pure and undefiled
Never messing up
Never admitting defeat
That's what you fear
You're afraid that they would denounce you
But you can't see
Well, why should you
That you are not alone
This masquerade invited everyone
And sadly, everyone came
There's truth waiting in the shadows
If you know to call its name
Wait for the calling!
Where we all rip off our masks
Proud as we are human
Prone to make mistakes.
You have to let go of fearing
That you won't measure up
'Cause hey, join the club, we've got t-shirts
That say, “Cover me with His love”.
Shame is your slavemaster, you know it
You are bound by its fear and its hate
So break your bonds of imperfection
Live your life before it is too late.