Three more
Posted: Tue Jun 12, 2007 6:32 pm
Three more I hope you guys will like, i will add more steadily, I have got a couple of hundred, so theres time yet...
In-Out.
Bombs popping on the land,
Guns throwing death,
scars and scabs on my hand,
My relieved last breath.
Planes soaring in the sky,
Cars trundling earth,
eyes bloodshot and always dry,
My dis-enchanted birth.
Music drilling at my ears,
T.V radiating skin,
all my hopes, and all my fears,
My heart-shaped tin.
Birds choking on the wind,
fish swimming blind,
Forgive all who've sinned,
Unconditional love for mankind.
The greatest place I can find,
the best place for me,
Is surely within my mind,
My untouched tranquility.
My reasons.
Why should one wright about nice things,
about beauty, summer, spring,
I would rather wright about the bad,
the dark, the evil, how I feel when sad.
The blood pouring out of man-made wounds,
one having three course meals, the other none.
I know you all find it such a drag,
on your peace of mind, not to mention the ego,
We all know that it is kept hidden,
the brutality, the exchanges, the downright despicable.
I do notfeel the need to turn away,
We did it, we are still doing it,
why sing about so much beauty,
when its so divinely displayed,
lets talk about what's messed up,
instead of facing the other way.
The Blues.
Do you ever get the feeling,
of happiness and sadness,
that everything is layered in,
masses of beauty, but also drabness?
The perfect intoxicating confusion,
of perceiving opposites at one time,
like laughter in the face of doom,
or the right decision being a crime.
A mental state characterised by dejection and misery,
like telling a lie, when you want to come clean,
the indulgence in thoughts of pleasing sadness,
or seeing something that cannot be seen.
That speechless contradictory moment,
when your so sure that your unsure,
that dumbfounded experience,
when everythings so simple, its sickeningly obscure.
Have you ever felt the neutral point,
that makes this short life long,
when you do the same as everyone else,
yet something tells you its wrong.
Though its neither heaven nor hell,
Melancholly you will see,
is the price we pay,
for being individual and free.
In-Out.
Bombs popping on the land,
Guns throwing death,
scars and scabs on my hand,
My relieved last breath.
Planes soaring in the sky,
Cars trundling earth,
eyes bloodshot and always dry,
My dis-enchanted birth.
Music drilling at my ears,
T.V radiating skin,
all my hopes, and all my fears,
My heart-shaped tin.
Birds choking on the wind,
fish swimming blind,
Forgive all who've sinned,
Unconditional love for mankind.
The greatest place I can find,
the best place for me,
Is surely within my mind,
My untouched tranquility.
My reasons.
Why should one wright about nice things,
about beauty, summer, spring,
I would rather wright about the bad,
the dark, the evil, how I feel when sad.
The blood pouring out of man-made wounds,
one having three course meals, the other none.
I know you all find it such a drag,
on your peace of mind, not to mention the ego,
We all know that it is kept hidden,
the brutality, the exchanges, the downright despicable.
I do notfeel the need to turn away,
We did it, we are still doing it,
why sing about so much beauty,
when its so divinely displayed,
lets talk about what's messed up,
instead of facing the other way.
The Blues.
Do you ever get the feeling,
of happiness and sadness,
that everything is layered in,
masses of beauty, but also drabness?
The perfect intoxicating confusion,
of perceiving opposites at one time,
like laughter in the face of doom,
or the right decision being a crime.
A mental state characterised by dejection and misery,
like telling a lie, when you want to come clean,
the indulgence in thoughts of pleasing sadness,
or seeing something that cannot be seen.
That speechless contradictory moment,
when your so sure that your unsure,
that dumbfounded experience,
when everythings so simple, its sickeningly obscure.
Have you ever felt the neutral point,
that makes this short life long,
when you do the same as everyone else,
yet something tells you its wrong.
Though its neither heaven nor hell,
Melancholly you will see,
is the price we pay,
for being individual and free.
