it always hits in the morning
such a stark contrast to
the radiance of the evening
suddenly I saw, how courageous
and monstrous this life could be
when your a gambler, or
a sensitive beast elevated by nature
then struck down by clouded skies
there is preservation and possession
stirring in this tarnished and addicted soul
at times, there’s a certain peace
that can be found in solitude
it’s not dangerous, it’s rational
don’t let them tell you any different
celibacy in discovery
but then, here i am again tainted,
by mid-season road maps scribbled
with violent disillusionment
why do you do it she once asked me
i don’t know I replied
i’m always led back to that place
distant, but the path is circular…familiar
sometimes there’s a mix of
bullshit bubblegum pop music
metal salvation, and puritanical Blues
lingering in the air
a quick glance, and maybe a laugh
they all see something, someone different
and yet, here I am
with a cadaver for a mind
filled with secrets of sex, poetry, music,
death, and time that moves
slow like fire
it’s an art form really,
but it’s misunderstood
you only have one shot in life
two if you’re really lucky
so my friend, don’t fuck it up
it seems now, that the drink stole
my hardened routine,
it dissolved my resolve
and made me think
not twice but three times
i like to be separate
from the rest of them outside and safe
I’d like to say it’s madness
but it’s not, in the end it’s just life
ordinary and disobedient, so pass me
the microphone and a beer, today i’ve got
a new kind of performance to give