[Part the First]

There's some giddy, childish sensation
The hope of a new generation

Faceless cameras war for my voice
A flashing ocean of stomps and shoves
Taken from me is my choice
Given is a false sense of love
They smile too wide to be true
Contorted and stretched, like some plastic
But they're all I have before the blue
So deep breaths, and then come dramatics

People who pass me by
Don't seem to realise
The emptiness of the sky
When they look into my eyes

They ask:
Is it lonely up in space?
Is it a cold, abandoned place?
Is it bright amongst the stars?
Do you know who you really are?

[Part the Second]

My life has faded to drunken thoughts
Reality doesn't confirm what can't be bought

The multicoloured psychedelia
Of nebula turning to rainbows
Now looks more fake than ever
And so my sanity goes
There's a beast out there, lurking
I'm not sure if it wants me
But my hope is hiding, sulking
From the abyss that can hear and see

The worst way to die is alone
Where there's no one who can help me
As my punishment destroys my home
At least, from my memory

They screech:
It's so lonely up in space
It's a cold, abandoned place
It's too bright amongst the stars
I think I'm dreaming too far

[Part the Third]

The faintest echo of laughter
Presents itself as my only answer

It's distant, like someone drowning in ecstasy
But it rings from the walls to my ears
The effect of the starry-eyed seas
Has mutated into whimpering fears
I know I'm not amongst the stars anymore
But the damage cannot be undone
So I gave myself to the floor
I could lie here, and never see the sun

Space could've never actually existed
Just a vivid fantasy of escape
But my mind has been so twisted
It must've been the cruelty of fate

They wonder:
Was it lonely up in space?
Was it a cold, abandoned place?
Will the stars ever forgive?
Do I still have a life to live?

In Descartes reading misery, contemplating life.
letting go is torture, keep momentum rife.
Seek out the pro's that teach the winning game,
searching for bragging rights, craving all the fame,
Nobody stops to calculate as words tear and multiply,
yearning for the screens real truth, never asking why,
the bumps in narrow roads deepen, crawling closer to the curve,
are pedestrians ready, have they rehearsed how to serve?

I live like a ship on a wave
Dragged by the deep, still paving a way
A slave for the day,
Set sails north and I let the force of the wind take me away

Take me away, sight's on a star
What's outside's inside who we are
What's inside's outside who we are
So who am I to define who we are?

Or who we're really not
But they all get ill and do the Millie Rock
They all sell souls at a mill-a-pop
That's a millipede, running Hip Hop

One thing I know, I am not them
I'm not slipping cuz I got Him
Lucy’s gripping cuz she got them
They ain't tripping cuz they balling

We drove past it every Thursday;
blank, bleach white walls.
Clean, block rectangular.

There was a garage
and sometimes a black car
in the driveway.

It stood out crowded by cluttered
town houses smothered in ivy,
with long grass, red brick or pebble-dashed.

Glass on the street and supermarket
bags on the path, traffic,
conventionality, routine, and teletext.

But his house stood out.
The closest vision of showbiz style
I could see with all I knew being

he grew up near here,
like me, and that must be it,
the very house where

he would live if still in this city.
Creating a myth to myself
that he was allusive but he was inside.

I’d wind down the car window
listening out for the sound of
his songs in the air,

or watch to see if anybody
opened the door, lights of cameras
in the seconds we pass the junction.

Of course, never saw him
on the Thursdays our car passed by
but knew he was very busy.

We all have baggage
We all have hate
We All bleed red
Yet we all discriminate

We all have bodies
We all have a different color and size
Yet We have a "perfect" body
That we all buy

We don't all have money
We don't all have fame
Yet this is what we all base it off of
Your status or you name