there isn't all that much to worship
but the long fingers of some unknown
god granting us with melody
and meaning

or maybe this girl of my dreams
she sells sea shells by the slaughterhouse
a real diamond in the rough
saving dimes to escape from ****** mountain

I found truth in a forgotten library
the rise of the blue lotus
watered by the flooding of pain

dawn appears

i am buckethead; i cannot see the light.
a filter of dirt; the light thru me is darkness.

i am the word
stained by attachment,
a world prism i am.

i wish to be as the full moon to the full sun, but i am no mirror; i am a factory; i create death.