I don’t mean to sound defeated
It just always hurt to try
Knowing there’s no meaning
In waiting out the night,
So I take my lashes willing
Under this starry sky
Knowing there’s no reason
Or pain to justify
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I don’t mean to sound defeated
It just always hurt to try
Knowing there’s no meaning
In waiting out the night,
So I take my lashes willing
Under this starry sky
Knowing there’s no reason
Or pain to justify
The lengths we’ll go to prove a point
are nothing compared
to the lengths we’ll go to save a life.
There’s something cynical in your smile
as if I rubbed off some and forgot to say,
that I’m not that kind of cynic.
And I feel no joy from any of this.
For those of you
incapable of happiness,
hang in there.
As without us
the world would be
an even sadder place.
I wish I could have been
The air of reason
Forever calm
Before the storm
Instead of becoming
Those howling winds
Those howling winds
You knew before
But having been
Picked over plenty
Like a jukebox full
Of another’s score
And though I never
Sought to reign
Like Aprils Fool
I seem to pour
Remember— oh brothers and sisters
that we are the philosophers of our time.
Us haggard poets of principle and measure,
no matter the plight must rise.
Through tears of understanding
with honest eyes do I
accept thy pleasure’s burden—
to see within our time.
With a white satin napkin
He wiped away his pride
That’s it my Lord, my Savior
What more have I to hide?
The pills induced his coma
His blood ran thin with wine
His revelation managed
By the nurse’s over-time
Oh, how the light
Always manages
To see through
The dark.
It’s much easier to lie
in the afternoon light,
steady’s the humming
bird that takes flight.
Oh whispering wind
forgive me tonight,
how flirting with death
has been a delight.
We went from public displays of affection
Straight to public displays of everything
Now leaving nothing to the imagination
Embracing it all, then apologizing for it after.
It’s like some convoluted social stream of consciousness
That forms a figure eight of disingenuous pandering
One which tastes to a choir of social unrest
Like change, its value null, when in reality it’s all just
As sad and dull as high school sex.