My coin operated love gave me a change,
a token of rage tossed in the air to deliver it's message.
heads or tails is both a losing choice,
and in this voice I'll say to you how  we are played like plastic toys.

I was once a pure one,
no sins has ever penetrated my conscience,
no dirt has ever lingered in my presence.
and in time I have become restless.

My libido is in rage,
at a tender age I became a slave,
My views distorted and out of place.
my horned silhouette shows me a grimace.

here I am driving faster than my thoughts,
living in the lap of luxury,
but inside I am lost.

The things I consume to satisfy my hunger,
Is the very same thing that swallows me and rots me in slumber.

I am a fetus swimming into this sac of delusion,
and in the belly of this beast I am painting my retribution.

It's a habit forming activity of the new age,
Science can't even explain the ideas floating  in teenage brain.
Like a super nova blasting in the sky,
a mind so random each and every time.

Thin slicing this warped mind,
A figure  drinking wine in a lime light,
never ever ask a question from your past,
never ever create a formula that won't last.

I am a practitioner of an art you'll never see in a museum,
you'll never see with your eyes.

I am a deaf musician using deception and rhymes,

Even I.  .  .

Even I. . .

can dream if I go blind.

Ye lives are on the line,
our lives are now online.

The old LSD,
Spelled backwards as DSL,
Can  now be seen in an LCD,
we are now pluged in a flat screen T.V.

Oh life!
****** and on the level,
and now we must rebel.

A Flash. . .

And you were there,
An Omnipresence anytime,
Anywhere.

Even when I blink my eyes,
for the Nth time,
Even when I rub them,
you won't leave em'

If I could put a face on you,
I'd like it to be my lover,
If I could recolor you,
I'd throw a green paint,
and if I could draw you,
I'd paint a Sunset or a
calm blue sky.

Yet you remain purple,
and for some reason
you slowly fade.
nostalgic feeling sinks in.

And you go back to black,
I'd always want to have a flashback.

There is a thin line between love and hate,
and in that line, in blood I bathe.
The ****** of logic is rampant in that place.

I am a wire walker crossing that line,
of manipulation and surrender.
of spontaneous combustion and self destruction.

I am unstable, yet in the process I am able.
To control your feelings is a skill,
to give up what you are is a drill.
and that is how you make me feel. . .

This life is a balancing act,
a circus of colors and shades,
applauded by a recorded audience of
a sitcom that we all hate.

Enact, React, and become passive.
Look back, reconstruct and become naive.

On the wire,
A message lost.
A voice forgotten,
A desire caught on fire.  .  .

This is where the good things end,
this is where happiness is bent.
where apathy creates a strong vortex,
that we are ****** in this whirpool
of hate and alibis.

maybe 'tis the right time to realize,
it's not really a surprise,
when lust and love decelerates,
and when pain and apathy accelerates.