. . .
Open those eyes.
Wake from peace.
Orders are some favorite color.
Same old same old is their battle cry.
Why don't we keep searching for a new flavor?
Our hearts have become a routine.
Worthy kings have broken backs for nothing.
Unless we cherish all with pride,
the lines on our face will turn into canyons of sorrow instead of hope.
They didn't die from the cold without but they died from the cold within.
And I just can't stop denying that our brothers are in miserable pain.
Lend a hand and break the chains of regularity that you lean so closely upon.
Your little Suburbia is in ruins.
Tear down all the assumptions you hold, for I guarantee they are false.
Sometimes the best feeling may be the one that kills
. . .
Your due date is up.
Don't make comments on irrelevant subjects.
There is a man who seeks his own happiness,
and his smile is warmer than five of yours.
You keep singing to a tasteless song.
He whistles to a song of hope.
A night of foolish chatter is easily replaced by a couple bold statements.
Few words are gold, and living is offensive in itself.
Your shallow ideals are about as useless as the gnats in my eyes.
Put your heart where your mouth is
. . .
Just take it in stride.
One breath and I think I feel free.
All we can do is strive for the best thoughts,
the best feelings, the "warm fuzzy" feeling.
As a child, I believed these all came to me due to the process of living.
Grab the wheel right now, and make this life yours.
Walk with me.
Leave your disgusting fever.
Take this life - make it yours.
Forgotten are the days of wandering pointlessly in my dreams.
Carry me with your wings
. . .
Some kind of friction has scarred me, but created your new style.
My reasons to endure used to be based around who you were,
and your brilliant passion that could blaze right in front of a perfect stranger.
This is my downfall - my blemish, I've been told before.
Quit holding on to what she was.
She doesn't recognize you or herself anymore.
She's stuck in the process of embracing what crumbles,
and when it happens there will be no apologies.
She chose to collapse what held her,
and if not cautious there may never be a cradle to soften her descent, like clouds.
New shapes are taken, but they're not always actual, they're never tangible.
It's so brutal to see someone give it all up for nothing,
and having no power to stop them
. . .
Chaos brings order.
Who will you allow to lead you blindly until the end?
You're like a little girl with a stupid crush.
We all sing glory.
We all choke ourselves with our own ignorance.
There is so much more to life than your stupid desires.
Nothing is everything, and everything is something.
Finding the meaning is looking through the vivid transparencies.
Dance the night away because tomorrow,
we will look back and talk about good times now gone forever.
Trace lines around the image of your choice.
Dance until the end, my friend, and find joy in every living thing.
Optimism is not a choice, it's a belief
. . .
Soft memories of a life well lived.
I'm thinking back and loving every moment I had.
This dull feeling is working through me, and every waking moment is more static.
As I step onto my porch of reflection, a brief wind of warmth is swept through me.
We succeed in order to bring forth order in our lives.
You have all felt it - the emptiness of being alone.
Zoloft will not cure it, human touch will not solve it.
This black, cold world is potent.
Please bless the children, please heal their cries.
A sweet sound is heard in my waking life.
Tremors of anguish ripple through visions and dreams.
Cries heal a starving nation facing death and destruction
. . .
Do I dare question it?
This world is ending with countless years of false doubting.
Let's get up and arise.
Your dreams are long gone.
Now you told me to never hold back mercy.
So, this is now evolving into your own interpretation.
Let's just call this fair play.
Slice them off, and restore the foundation.
We must begin the downfall of their branches.
We are always too quick to point the finger on our closest companions.
Fly away into a dream full of hope,
soar above the branches and into the faraway stars
. . .
A front seat to your own flick,
if only you could see how much your emotions waver.
Words are flowing from your mouth at lightning speed.
They’re packing heat and are ready to kill.
Cry, frown, hit, yell.
Let’s watch where it takes you.
You really don’t have it that bad.
Try looking through the glass of beauty.
It will show you the truth.
We are all guilty of self-centeredness.
We have committed the crime,
but what we fail to realize is the dent it leaves in our soul.
Everyone is full of it in their own way.
A young boy cannot comprehend social status,
and this boy is better off than any of us.
Life will pass by us like a summer storm,
and if we consume ourselves with ourselves,
we will surely look back with sorrow
. . .
Don’t you understand me?
This cloud over my head is not okay.
There are things that I need to get done.
The burden I have been carrying is not my idea of fun,
and it doesn’t give you permission to take a shot below the belt.
We have so little time, let’s not spend it in anger.
I am in the deep end and can’t find air.
I am throwing punches with a blindfold on.
Stop riding my tail with your high beams on, because I may just brake suddenly.
I would rather not explode – that’s your job.
I’m stuck in between two worlds in a maze of dreams and thoughts.
What a bittersweet symphony life is,
but I wouldn’t have it any other way
. . .
. . .
I can no longer tell the days from the nights.
The moon glows an eerie red and I could swear it was covered in blood.
Something big is going to happen
something so big it could forever change the world.
What have you all done?
What have you all become?
A people more concerned with the temporary pleasures of this world
rather than your own eternal salvation?
I am now convinced that this is the end.
As I raise my head towards the heavens
to take one last look at the moon, the stars begin to fall
. . .