I’ll sleep soundly when I’m dead

Is there fear in your excitement

like a newly unearthed coffin

You can see it from a distance

like a nearsighted eye witness

It comes creeping through the window

you left open while you sleep

Like an unsuspecting victim

you roll over just to see

There’s a shadow in the doorway

sending shivers down your spine

Like a child on a big wheel

cup your hands over your eyes

When you finally build the courage

to admit you’ve lost your mind

There’s just air and heavy breathing

feels like you’ve got the shine

Now you’re choked up glass of water

who left on the kitchen light

And you swear there’s no one listening

still you check the corner twice

Cause it’s somewhere between 3 and 4

the hour’s devil’s prime

It’s the fear in your excitement

in the background of your mind

Monday morning tired pouring

rain falls cold upon your head

It’s a new day maybe Tuesday

I’ll sleep soundly when I’m dead

Wednesday Thursday afternoon

blurs into Friday I’m still wet

From the tears of Saturday’s gone by

Sunday’s a day of rest?

So don’t fight it just accept it

that to fall asleep is hard

When your dreams feel like the raven

and your mind a tell-tale heart

There’s a shrill cry in the alley

that you wish now to explore

It just proves that other’s trauma

spreads itself like works of art.

Drunk in Cyberspace.

Everything, I wanted to do,
slowly drifts away.

Clicking here, now clicking there,
it all just looks the same.

An endless maze, of travesty,
piles on each page.

But I don’t have, the guts or tact
or sincerity to look away.

And each time that, I tell myself
tomorrow’s another day.

The calendar, it flips and turns,
yet I just stay the same.

Consciously, predicting that
in sunlight I will change.

Then by the moon, retracting that
I’m drunk in cyberspace.

If nothing really mattered
then I guess
nothing really matters
and so if nothing really matters…
Then why the hell do I keep on trying to explain?
Why the hell do I keep on
this way?

They tell me thanks, rinse and repeat
all I can do is laugh.

There was a time, when I was sure
there seemed, some way back.

A charlatan, a debutante,
perfection on a screen.

Deeper in, still deeper now
a web of misery.

And by the time, I’ve had my fill
and walking on a cloud.

The city lights, extinguished by
eyelids that do bow.

It’s not a curse or act of God,
that craves some kind of change.

But the terror dreams of darkness,
while drunk in cyberspace.

The cure, the cure is quite simple
the cure, the cure is quite simple
the cure, the cure is quite simple…

But.