Here I sit in my math class, feeling fine, except for my ass.
I stretch, I yawn, let it all hang out, but I get too loose, and my tongue falls out.
There’s a girl on my left, a guy to my right, I shake my head and they watch the sight.
I start to drool, I start to shake, I forget my ass, as my head now aches...
If you dream of flying and I dream of dying, who’s the one crying for help?
You yearn for things, only my dream can bring, while I do not lie to myself.
To dream that you can, do things beyond man is exactly what I myself do.
But you try to clasp what lies past your grasp while I, to myself remain true.
Your fantastical dreams bring your life to its knees
In the end, you must take from yourself.
So, if you dream of flying and I dream of dying, who’s the one crying for help?
The loneliest place you will ever land,
is the rocky shore beneath your own skin.
Somewhere between your dreams and the past,
trapped between the "who you were" and "the who I am".
An island adrift from those you hold dear,
marooned in a sea formed from your tears.
Your only hope for salvation,
the tenuous belief the weight you carry
has made you strong enough to swim.
Little Johnny Bandersnoot
had a closet full of loot
and he filled it with the oddest toys,
much odder than the other boys.
His Mother never could get in
that upright, locked tight, bedroom bin
for Johnny hid the key.
In these dreams I dream these days
that a secret fear I’d locked away
and hoped to never bring this way
has finally come to call.
I stumble forth from sheets still wet
in sleep I dampened them with sweat
while try I might but never yet
have I made it past these walls...
Once while riding on a bus
I sat beside a 'Potomus
A roley, poley thing was he
With a basket of bricks upon his knee
That's when he calmly turned to me and said
I see you staring
I see you glaring
I see bulging eyes and nostrils flaring
I see the questions in your head
About these bricks, both yellow and red
Heavy as a tonne of lead
All balanced on my knee
She chases her dreams like raindrops chase gravity down a pane of glass
tracing erratic patterns on their way to an end
to merge with others as they collide along the way
breaking free when it's time, taking pieces from each
not lonely but always, in the end, alone.
Time has stolen my confidence
My mind has stolen my youth
Each day is a question
Each answer - half lie, less truth
I built myself a family
Believed I had a plan
Discovered belief was for the living
Learned how to be a broken man
How furious the flaming tiger grows
when eager his heart and passion shows
but the bitter sweet of life he knows
is but the hollow smack of death’s black, black kiss.
How sad that he shan’t be missed.
I’ll press you up against the wall
Cradle your face in my hands and kiss you long and deep with passion
If you’ll wrap your legs around me
Clasp your hands behind my neck, pull me in and throw away all caution
Reminding me once again why it is I choose to stay