Five - Take it easy

I found out the other month how you had died.
I hadn't seen you in years, but wondered if I should cry.
Then came the usual grief, sadness thing.
I mourned and I grieved, but it meant nothing.
Because I hadn't seen you since back then.
I haven't seen you since and I didn't know you back then.
It was innocent love and a casual crush,
A young virgins longing and a romantics lust.

I can still remember how I felt when my frail mother told me
that you will never be the woman you would want to be.
She said: "she'll never make it to Christmas this year,
Because nobody told her what she needed to hear."
I'd stagger round all day in school and dream that I could find
in the corner of your empty diary my name written down in scarlet rhyme.
Now I walk around all day at work and imagine I would find
Inside of your oval coffin, nothing but the quiet dust of time.

 

Sunday dawns,
A bright new day.
The brightest day I've seen.
But Monday comes,
My will is gone,
I can never believe,
That Sundays sun is gone,
And Mondays moon is shining bright.
The happy lives and pale blue eyes,
Behold such an awful sight.

Beauty is a cover all,

Its greed inherit for the soul.

Analyze and scrutinize, despise and undermine your eyes

And trick the world at large into trusting that there’s a kind

Of quiet open majesty

In the abuse

My eyes define in you.

 

Despite all the pain,

I can never quite say,

What it is I’ve seen

And where my mind has been.

While you’ve been here

I’ve been gone in deep

And out again, forgot my friend

And in the end

Is all I say, can't make you pay,

Can't make you sing.

They say that god created everything.

But I say I created me.

Created me out of the rhetoric that spills out of my head

And onto the page on which I write my soul, my sins.

While you're lying in that foolish grave, my dear,
I dream of you some other place than there.
I sing you songs of simple affection that you will never hear
And I write you little poems of twisted love that you will never read.

Beauty is an empty tool.

So forget the means play the fool.

Despise and criticize,

And forget to play the lies,

Because there’s dignity in self-abuse

And humor less is self-amused.

So laugh at the misuse

Mine eyes define in you.

 

Despite all the pain,

I can never quite say

What it is I’ve seen

And where my mind has been.

While you’ve been here

I’ve been gone in deep,

And out again forgot my friend,

And in the end

Is all I say, can't make you pay,

Can't make you sing.

They say that god created everything

But I say I created me

Created me out of the rhetoric that spills out of my head

And onto the page on which I write my soul, my sins.

 

I am weary, I am tired of sleep.

I am uncomfortable in life,

And I'm dead on my feet.

My muscles hurt; my bones are made of dust,

Consciousness is a burden to me,

And my skin has turned to rust.

 

I am cold, the dark hurts my eyes.

How irrelevant is life

When we live in the moonshine.

My body burns, but my brain feels like ice.

Consciousness feels like sleep to me

While death feels just like life.

 

Amid all the rage

Just listen and say,

You know where I have been

And you’ve seen what I have seen.

I'm into the red; I'm better off dead.

I'm out again forgetting my pain.

Cause in the end

If all I say, is shut up and pray,

And all I sing

Is its better off being dead?

Than living with my conscious on my head.

 

But all this
Is a dead poets mind that’s thinking in ink,
And gasping for air, that tastes of neon pink,
While drowning in a bathtub of sympathy,
A delirium caused from too much complacency,
Writing with stars and an alcoholics rage,

With a coffins last nail on a newspaper page.

 

You hate the world today

Because the way the change is made,

You've sacrificed your soul and made sacrilege your hate.

With indoctrinated mind, you've mass marketed your fate,

You put some poison in your diet, so eat a little everyday

To cancel out reality and cancel out the pain.