Ten minutes til the perculator
Brings me from grime to grind.
And in the morning stars are setting,
As soon the sun will rise...
On a world that I hate to hate.
On a world that loves to hate me.
I have to go outside and want to die.
I cannot stay in and hide.
There are monsters in the field
And they've got the taste of blood.
There is no end in sight.
I cake my face with mud.
They always know to find me,
Though I move in patterns, rare.
Deep inside, I turn inside,
I deny dispair.
I know I'll never beat them.
I avoid, but can't back down.
And so I'll take the beating,
But I'll try to rend their skin.
I know just how they see me.
The same as they did then.
Silent words that we all know
Do not go unknown for sin.
The time has metered nothing.
It hasn't changed a thing.
If authority lets loose it's leash,
The dogs would gnash again.
The eyes upon me see distainly
What they want to hurt.
Only, just, to keep alive
What every monster wants.
Ten minutes til the perculator
Has darkly roasted beans,
That was ground into powder,
Like the bullets in my lean.
The night will soon be like
A blanket ripped from me
To show me in the basking light
For all the world to see.
They'll say that I'm a monster.
I always was so strange.
I was a trouble-maker, boiler maker
And the only one to blame.
They'll say I was a bad seed.
When all of them do know
The type of horror that befell
From the monsters long ago.
In times of triumph I did learn
How best to bide the time.
They think I'm so predictable.
They're thinking colorblind.
For all the worth of quiet,
And to rest this savage pain,
And retribute the misery,
(It won't happen again)
And yet you'll cry for justice.
Say it's never served.
If you used measured all they put on me,
They'll get what they deserve.
The victim becomes monster,
The world fears the marters more
Than any of the heathan clan...
Ten minutes, nothing more.
I wanted to write something provacative and edgy. I also wanted to empathize with another point of view. I think if it polarizes, that's a fair reaction.
