Wednesday, 20 June 2012


The way that we need hatred is really just too much,
avoiding simple circumstance, the truth is not enough.
a bomb that drops from the mouths of the unknown
speaking like a god, when they are new born

watch out,  from overhead,
the sour words of the insincere hang like bats of dread

"I'm not just a man". I'm a channel for your ideas,
an envelope for emotion, a parcel of ideals

coughing up romance,
and choking on your self satisfaction
bodies hit the floor
from your mirror mirror attraction

oh, ideals, on the wall, on the panel, your standards fall
a war of words with a world that will not listen,
you're so disenfranchised  you don't know what you are missing

really you are just a collapsing frame,
a storefront in a city,  a star in search of fame,
all you deserve to be is a door that goes un-knocked.

the whistle of the wind passes by in your night
the only thing you can hear is the sound of your own voice
keeping clapping, with your own one hand
you hold the world to ransom but you don't know your own demands.