'Insanity' is a subjective term, I can't believe I spent all this time trying to say that, thats all I had to say.

Anyway...

American media is destroying the souls of millions, killing true character and replacing it with buzzwords and pointless insecurity.

Wether it's hard to believe or completely obvious, the way you see life changes as you get older.

She's the child with the beautiful smile.
She's the child with the beautiful smile.

And it's all lost on you.

Intelligently designed with a rhyme in mind that rhymes with time that you can easily find unless your blind.

Because I never did want any mystery between the words I write and the words you see.

Interesting.
Distractions.
Even.
After.
Seeing.

Green.

Because he's somewhat fraught with danger and he knows that she's a stranger, though nothing has been stranger than when God was in a manger, and she dressed up as an angel and told the texas ranger to exchange her for gold.

Blank journal, payed for cool and yeah she knows it all.
Traced face blues, film noir hues, but it's all on cue.

The revolution never happened.

It's why! oh why?.

The crying clown explaining relativity, saying "E=MC²!!"
The laughing policman in tears, it's almost like he cared.

And someone in the middle telling me I should never of stared.

All the while the policeman's chair layed broken under pressure.
Now the clown walks away with a smile on his face commenting on the weather.

Mr.Parody

I'm thinking of nothing in particular, it's more like hearing a buzzing noise and trying to drown it out with images,words and memories of random instances in time.

All the while processing some kind of logical map to justify to myself the relevance of my thoughts so that I can come to a conclusion and then articulate it in to words so as to convey a basis for your opinion of who I am and what I have to offer you.

"Leave your stepping stones behind,
Theres something that calls for you.
Forget the debts you've left,
They will not follow you."

Kiss entail.

Laugh Mister Police man, Come sing with me cherokee.
Her eyes are all dried up and I've still got more to preach.

Your once used type writer, becomes water logged.
Ideas you once had, leak from your failed eyes.

And all the while no sound was ever heard.
Though I hear luck is due for the third.

Metaphor gets lost in the battle for translation.
And I'm starting to point at the relation to salvation.

She says take her advice and ignore this for instance.
I dunno, but that looks like a sail in the distance.

Irony I tried, but it only ever got me feeling blue.
Born into a constant bang, this noise wont bother you.

Man is up for trial, to which I plead guilty.
Sometimes I think this will help me feel free.

Now the meaningless swan has been dismissed.
True beauty's now crossed from the ignorant's list.

The Harsh...

Your so different, your one of those special people, yeah look at you glowing.

Woah...

oh oh oh...

Must be something more to it than that, Must be more than how you say my name, or how you dismiss riches and fame.

It's got to be bigger than my insecurities, bigger than what makes me me, because then arent you just human? Which means this must be love.

Oh god it's love...

Oh oh oh...

Look what you've done to me, stumbling over myself to see you, but now where is the light? Where is the creature of the night? Who are you that has replaced my love?

Oh god no.

Flowers and Butterflies

Oh oh oh oh she didn't ever want to know how it works
No no no no splittin headache just to show my brain works

Nothing is wrong, just two negatives to articulate happiness in myself is strong, I already know this isn't love, but let me know I'm wearing my skin like a glove and I'll talk to you about why peace is represented by a dove.

We can do it like you want it, but I have a better idea of how to flaunt it, sorry this halo isn't made out of glass, didn't pay extra for my trip to the stars, but I know how to make you laugh, depression taught me to ignore the past, it's the future I have control of, relatively speaking of course, that's why there's a long pause, uncomfortable silence because I'm thinking of how to make this last.

I'm too concerned with how it all looks to him upstairs to make it look like I care, forgive me if I strike you as someone less than human but it's all part of the system, in a world where we sink or swim so forget me and think about the children.

The children.
The children.
The children.
The children.
The children.
The children.

''You look like David bowie
But you've nothing new to show me
Start another fire
and watch it slowly die''

Oh I'm just gonna come out and say it...

They're my NEW favorite band, ok.

Now that everybody's here
Could we please have your attention?
There is nothing left to fear
No now that bigfoot is captured
But are the children really right alright alright
Rep.

There is danger in the night
There are things we can't control but
Will we give ourselves a fright
When we become less than human?
There are people who say why oh why oh why?
Now there are other ways to die oh why oh why?

But upon this tidal wave oh god oh god
But upon this tidal wave oh god oh god of
Young Blood
Young Blood
Young Blood
Young Blood
Young Blood
Young Blood
Young Blood
Young Blood

We are men who stay alive
Who send your children away now
We are calling from a tower
Expressing what must be
Everyone's opinion
"They are going out to bars and they are getting into cars I have seen them with my own eyes."
"AMERICA PLEASE HELP THEM!"

''Yeah, it's reacurring, it's like a dream. I live a thousand times, yeah, and it's always like the very first time''

clap your hands say yeah.

You heard it here first.

My excuse and I'm sticking with it.

She didn't ever suspect me, even when the lights were green and I turnt my cheek, Now she's as clueless as the weak, and some part of me feels cheap.

The forty thieves had nothing on me, they all danced on my birthday, while I'm drinking whisky and smoking with her mother.

She sometimes asks what I look like from the side, I tell her she already knows.
It's the front I'm trying to hide.

Maybe I'll stop before it's too late, but victory is always better than listening to the undertaker count from one to ten.

Now she's in the barn, waiting for me to show, But I dont know, I dont know if I want to go.

I'll finish this drink and tell you about the lives of others, if you promise to tell her I was in trouble, something about my best friend's mother.

The shadows are getting too small for the indians to hide now, My boats leaving in an hour, give her this flower and tell her to wait for another coward.

Sorry, dear.

The old man with the squinting eyes

Beautifully crafted,
Like a scene from a film
He stood there with his head down
Looked up and said 'Hey I'm Neil'

Didnt stop to question him
Just looked him in the eyes
Said ''is this the way to happiness?''
He replied with a look
Akin to 'your what I despise'

He said 'dont go there,
These arent lies.'

The old man with the squinting eyes.

It's supposed to be see through you dumb slut.

Life advice for the enlightened.

Be descreetly patronising.

When someone catches on, crank it up a notch.

Repeat this through out life.

You'll end up knowing about 5 people but they'll all think your incredibly funny.

THINK ABOUT IT...

He would love to tell you he is a poet or some kind of writer, he loves writing, he truely does, the truth is he just doesn't have that 'writers mentality' required to be anything more than a blabbering fool, an intelligent blabbering fool, but a blabbering fool none the less. His on-going-theme is writing about writing, writing about his own writing, writing about what he is writing the writing about. I don't really have a word to call it, but that's what he does. The use of metaphore is simply devine.