Walking down the street;
I had just slipped into something comfortable.
ironic

I saw your head between
the horizon and the sidewalk,
and smiled at your lips
silhouetted.
you didn't turn.
i didn't want you too.
you didn't.

why didn't you turn?

suddenly the rain hit me like
paint.
i imagined the cityscape drowned
in the paint rain.

It filled the transparent drops of gray
with the sky,
and your eyes,
and that look on your face

surfaces striking simutaniously
and spreading reflected light into my eyes,
like a sunset.
the spilling of
the sky,
your eyes,
the look on your face

i took cover in a man hole.
the shaft of illumination
from above
making me
half a man

the paint rain still came down
dripping into my
privacy.

i stayed there;
not due
to apathy, anger
or you.
but just so i could see
the paint rain fall

i drowned like the city in the paint rain.
drenched in color.
soaked.
i drowned in the paint rain,
that wasn't gray today

i drowned like the city
in the sky,
in your eyes,

i drowned in that look on your face

your the one
with the missing smile
who mistakes my honest love
for guile
and i know it may
take a while
for your mind to change

you'll always be on a horizon

i'm the one
with empty eyes
who is always looking toward
the skys
all i can do is
apologise
for the things i don't want

you'll always be on a horizon

i'm glad i can see the sadness
in your eyes
i take pride in my ability
to sympathize

but our tears
follow different paths
down different faces.

i know the trail your tears take.
I've walked upon your fleshy mantle.
and when the rain fell
I took cover under your eye lids

look at me, i'll look at you
there's nothing i would rather do
than pet your hair and gently coo
away the colors turning blue

There's a man who lives down the street,
he wears nothing but dirt on his feet,
if you ask him his name,
he'll say he was framed,
and notice the sky's not complete.

He lives by himself in the park,
his ****** expressions are stark,
he always lies,
but when he closes his eyes,
he sees something besides the dark.

You've walked past him before,
his mouth agape like a door,
his hands long to hold,
a warmth that's now cold,
a light shining inside a drawer,
a light spilling across the floor,
a light easiest to ignore,
the light in his head,
will shine til he's dead,
don't be blind anymore.

Ignight matches, ember flashes;
skatter ashes, synapse crashes.
shattered egos, falling seagulls;
escaped evils, louring reels.
when the past begins ignition,
animate my superstitions,
demonstrate simple submission.
after my final decision,
with unbelievable percision.
stay the course, on a mission;
the death of all know memory;
stems the voice to reach my ear;
the foolishness of men I see;
neon fantacy without fear.
the audacity of the dead blooming,
the understanding in darkness looming,
the screaming, flying, fading, fuming,
tendency to hate consuming.
spreading spores to distant shores,
apple cores and opened doors.
fleeing, fighting, never lying,
down apon this ancient ground;
**** this town, it's over now;
**** this town, let's end it now.
In the turn of pages and sheets,
the end is something that's bound to repeat.

The sounds that come
from
us.
They dance beside your water-bed.
Laughing at the walls.
Rolling down the sheets.
Seizing in ecstasy.
Rippling and waving
everything away.
besides,
the sounds that come
from
us.

i don't watch the news
because people don't matter.
should you give something back?
or keep growing fatter?
if it were up to me
id not choose the latter.
you can call me insane
but it's you who's the hatter.