Sell your soul at the end of the road and I’ll sell my soul as well. We’ve lost it all in the pit shopping malls and my heart feels hard as hell. How could I have known that our love was soon to grow? And how could I see my heartstrings ripped and torn at the seams. Suddenly the past don’t seem so extraordinary to me, all I see are blinders put up so I can hardly see what’s in front of me. See yourself at the end of the night, as my head sinks into a chair. You’ve given me so many things, yet all I can do is stare. How could I breathe easily remembering everything? And how could I see straight when I know that I’m the one who’s missing a head, a heart, and all the signals usually sent back to the start? I’m a green, living, breathing piece of machinery. I just need a mechanic to fix me.

I’ve never seen so much distinction between the natural colored sky, and all the secret trouble in every striking hazel eye. Never opened my conceptions to all the hateful bleeding blows, never an open mind ‘cause I shut it and that’s how this story goes. You live in your place, I live in mine, I used to live there too till I lost my mind. And then the shit hit the fan and ended up on the floor, it was too much to bear so I don’t live there anymore. But you’re tired, you’re patient but you’re tired, and when that patience runs out there’s no telling what’s gonna slip out. All the shit you thought I was too good or too soft to hear, and then I’ll sit there and listen and close my tired eyes and fall asleep with a thousand guilty scenes played over ten-thousand times. I don’t know what you’re talking about, ain’t no patron saint in this town. One day he got tired of no one listening, now he just sits at home and drinks beers on the couch. You say I’m there to take his place, I smile politely and ask would you look at my face: When I sigh these days I sigh deeper, and these smiles just aren’t the same, and rarely will I let out laughter that isn’t laced with smoke and shame. So I say to you dear listener, to all those passing by, will you be there with me to carry the torch when that patron saint finally kicks the bucket and dies?

I know you’re wrong. But I know your weakness, and I will strike when the time is right. You came in strong, but flickered out like a firefly who’s always afraid to be wrong. But who started the flame back when we were kids? Now we work like back-broke acrobats. And we’re staying strong, and we’re getting good grades, and we’re all collapsing to the floor. Buried in our mentor’s epitaphs. Amidst the broken glass a kid calls out, “Man, Voltaire knew where it’s at.” And I don’t suppose he wrote since then, and I don’t suppose he will again. I’ll do everything for you, man. I’ll do everything for you, hold your hand. I’ll do everything for you, man. Till the dam breaks loose we’re catching up on cutting loose. I know it’s wrong to leave so early, but I really just can’t stand your face. It’s already getting cold, and my hair isn’t long yet, but I must be going to a nicer place. What do I see but blank stares on the corner? It’s got me thinking that we’re all so bored. Afternoons alone, these broken plans relieve me of some sort of debt of which I’m not aware. Yet on the corners they still stare. I want a rainy day with my love, not some hyped up affair. Found him talking to the plants and animals, said he’s got a theory, said you wouldn’t like it. But they captured him, put him in a straight-suit-jacket. Now he says he’s happy, he’s working as a tax collector. And I don’t suppose he wrote since then, and I don’t suppose he will again. I’ll do everything for you, man. I’ll do everything for you, hold your hand. I’ll do everything for you, man. Till the dam breaks loose we’re catching up on cutting loose. Wipe that look off your face, it’s not a mob mentality or a rat race. It’s just a system full of regret, it’s the punch in the face of some guy staring at some girl’s chest. And I don’t need it taking up my life. I don’t need some government official telling me it’s alright. And I don’t suppose he wrote since then, and I don’t suppose he will again. I’ll do everything for you, man. I’ll do everything for you, hold your hand. I’ll do everything for you, man. In the sea of sitting ducks, he was the morning hen.

Sometimes I think it’s only right to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night. Catch a cab to the airport, board the next available flight away from this world, away from its fright. And these choices, they’re all the same. Leading down the slide of confusion and shame. Instead I’d rather not waste away, the only part of my life not given away. The only part that I will never give away. So I won’t rest until every muscle is shaken, I will not stop until everyone is concerned. I will not shut my mouth until every demon comes out, despite your best convictions now, this is war. I am heading out in a plane, hearse or in a straight-jacket. I am getting the hell away from this planet. And these choices, they’re all the same. Leading down the slide of confusion and shame. Instead I’d rather not waste away, the only part of my life not given away. The only part that I will never give away. Now it seems to me that I’m not crazy, it’s just all of you who are insane. ‘Cause I don’t like to be sweating and shaking at the end of every night. See that LED light, I’d like to smash it into the ground. So to hell with summer blues, I’d rather take all of you to the woods, we’ll go camping.

Sometimes I feel oh so magical, but something always gets in the way. It’s like looking down the rabbit hole, I just need to find some space. Well my uniform is hung to dry, and I’m laughing but you know I want to cry. These days I want to be built Ford tough, but first I’m gonna need some money. And these cards are stacked against me, tuition piles in the closet behind me. The monster under the bed is real, and I swear he’s coming for me. But my friends all say it’s okay: Smile politely, laugh coldly. I want to spit in the face of all I hate until I find someplace where I can escape. But I’m just digressing, please don’t alert the authorities. ‘Cause give me ten minutes tops with a couple of cops and I’ll send them away screaming. Woe is me, stereotyping myself into a corner. Is there a single passerby who can still call himself a loner? I once had a dream that the world had lost its gleam, and the streetlights were put out by the floods. When I awoke, I learned the world was just a joke, and now I’m so happy to be the punch line. These punk-ass kids are breaking my back, and one of these days I’m gonna crack; smash their heads to the wall, I’ll show them all, a real menace to society. Yet here I sit, full of shit, rat in the cage but I don’t rattle it. An old punk rocker with a corporate job says he’ll take it down from the inside. If these wax catacombs don’t crush my bones, I’ll finally find a place that feels like home. Paranoid without a cause, like a pinprick living in a house of gauze. Don’t say I have to grow up, drink craft beer and watch the world cup. I’ve got a million and one reasons why I shouldn’t stay, and I’m sure your name is in there someplace. Complacent disregard will only get us very far. No one’s ever made history by sitting around whining. So I’ll fight to death anyone who tries to stop me, I’m gonna fall from grace with a smile on my face and drift slowly into open space. Woe is me, stereotyping myself into a corner. Is there a single passerby who can still call himself a loner? I once had a dream that the world had lost its gleam, and the streetlights were put out by the floods. When I awoke, I learned the world was just a joke, and now I’m so happy to be the punch line.

Shimmering son, with your blanket of steel wool, wandering free, until you found the key to the temple. Now you know your truths, and you’ll never know nothing else. Now you know your rules, and you’ll never trust nothing else. Now now here’s the crux, you’ve got your head in the mud. And I’m okay until I run out of oil, and toxic fumes keep my head in a spiral. Save yourself from taking too much time, run away. Shimmering son, with your heart filled with darkness, pressured by life and pressured by convenience. Now you know your goals, and you’ll never know nothing else. Now you know your rules, and you’ll never know nothing else. Now now here’s the crux, you’ve got your head in the mud. And I’m okay until I run out of oil, and toxic fumes keep my head in a spiral. Save yourself from taking too much time, run away.

Dead ringer is dancing, holding his bow. The baby is laughing, her feet dripping into a glow. I stand between them, saying “why do you smile like that?” For all we know, we’re just composed of dollar signs, stack upon corporate stacks. You did me a service when you said that I should go. The walls close beneath us, can’t you feel the air escape through your throat. I only wanted to show them how much it means to me to escape from the past with my soul intact, free to run and grit my teeth. Hand in hand, rip the bandages off, set ourselves free. Run and never look back on the siren song of mediocrity. Hand in hand, rip the bandages off, set ourselves free. Run and never look back on the siren song of mediocrity. The winds carry a promise with their fingers tied behind their backs. But the night is more honest, will not quaver, will give you the cold hard facts. In cat vs. mouse, I’d rather be the bird in the end: I’ll fly up through the trees, watch the whole damn scene, and before nightfall I’ll have fled. I have one hand in the desert and one hand in the sea, whichever one clears out first is where you’ll fine me. So call him a coward who escapes to be free, but we must escape to forge a new colony for those to brave to flee the ones who are beyond saving. Rip the bandages off, set ourselves free. Run and never look back on the siren song of mediocrity. Hand in hand, rip the bandages off, set ourselves free. Run and never look back on the siren song of mediocrity. Oh please sing a song, please sing along. Sing we are right and they are wrong. Why don’t we join and run away, leave the wrong to dig their own graves. Trial by fire or trial subdued, either way I get my money and I’ll spend it all on you. Why don’t we join and run away, leave the wrong to dig their own graves.

She’s finished drinking so she sets down her glass. He’s finished thinking so he gets off his ass, and stops and stares and looks out upon the sea of drought. The placid wind will blow the remnants ashore, paying tuition that we can’t afford. But I’m absolute in my convictions, I’ll force a genuine smile out of these stitches now. Confront a world where we’ve all been duped. The sun casts a glare on the perfect rouse. Times are a changing, no longer the fortunate one. I woke up from a nightmare that I died, and now I’m holding the smoking gun. Now the fire’s gone and burned it all down. We’ll reconfigure a new head for the crown. Who’s there to lead us, to lead us astray to a new dawn and a new fucked up day. The fire rages but it’s dead in the hearts of millions paying for a degree in liberal arts. I know where I stand, on the skulls of the living and the souls of the dead. Confront a world where we’ve all been duped. The sun casts a glare on the perfect rouse. Times are a changing, no longer the fortunate one. I woke up from a nightmare that I died, and now I’m holding the smoking gun. Woah, the ship of fools is docked at bay, and I am too. But my my my, would you look at the time, I’d rather stay and die than leave and whine.

Stay, we love you to pieces, arrest the trapdoors in your head. Scared cadaver sits and waits for the rest to fall. I’m just not here. Are they all waiting, or have they hit the floor? Their souls don’t touch no one anymore. The scared cadaver says it’s the year of great change, he says. But that’s later on. Not so fast. No you, you’re not so fast. No you, you’re not so fast. No you will not run for much longer.

I’ll head out, tensions scream without a doubt, “this has to end.” I’ll head out and try and seem no worse prepared, but I’m filled with fear. I’ll sit this one out. Stomach’s already aching from the pain that may come. I’ll just sit right here, count my blessings as you plead to your impractical number one. It’s funny how the way fate chose us to live on did nothing for the stay, or gave anything to improve on. I never much cared for those nights at the cockroach motel. I made a laundry list of all of my indulgences, grievances, and urgencies and everything in between. I finished proudly, knuckles trembling, heart pounding, thinking maybe it’s time to begin. Count this one over one hundred thousand times, I'll never watch Golden Girls the same way again. And I pray that I never have to feel that kind of heartache again. So raise high your plastic cups, here’s a toast to all you love. Can it be that things are looking up. Don’t wanna jump the gun, so let’s have some fun and see where it lands. ‘Cause when tomorrow comes, I’ll back my stuff and head out to get my education.

This poetry is killing me. I think I miss geometry, a simple little recipe makes all of our parts known. Instead I’m pacing after class, dismemberment of heart and head. I think I must relax my ass or else I might be dead. Knowledge of impending doom swept under with a wooden broom, but instead of sitting in our gloom they want us to be writing. So here I tremble with my pen, I wish it were a master sword so I could slay my professor and be no longer bored.