The Storm

What will you do?

what will you think?

when

the

time

comes.

What will you do?

What will you think?

when 

the

time

comes

to do anything.

you've never really done a fucking thing

and you've never really thought about it.

you've never really ever made a single choice

that ever really meant a thing

or had a 

consequence.

keep on coasting

keep on treading

and the weight of your choices

held on to by pride

they will pull you down,

drag you under,

make you drown

make you drown.

this is the time

this is the thunder

you are the strike,

you are the violence,

a stab in the dark

a cut throught the blindness

---

the storm is upon you

and if you don't control it

it'll tear you asunder

it'll tear you asunder

if you're not apart of it

they'll tear you asunder

---

let the rain wash you down

let yourself feel electric

'cause you are the strike

you are the violence

the fist in the fight

the howl in the night

you are the current

that's bringing this 

world back to life.

I want to bleed.

A breathing machine
is what i've become
no engine to rev in anger

a tower of bones
with hands to shake hands
but no strength to hold onto purpose

these feet making tracks,
they don't fill big shoes
and the shadow i cast will not make the news.

and the direction that i'm going,
with the perfection insisted...
feels like i've been here, oh, ten thousand times before.
looking in a mirror
every single time
i go to open the door.

every place i go
people are always leaving
grieving about the greener grass they thought they'd found before.
why's there no place that i've heard of
where the locals long to stay?
why are dreams always found in the places far away?

i'm done with doors, it's time for bricks thrown through the windows,
no more handshakes, only elbows in chest cavities.
i want to bleed, to bleed,
to stain more lives than i could ever cast in shadow.
you can't see the scars i have so i'll earn the ones you can,
i want to bleed, to bleed,
to bleed.

who really needs an engine to rev up after all?
with gas prices so high anger's not cost effective
and who needs a heart to beat with passion
when blood makes people sick?
who needs a heart to beat at all
when it won't beat back the dreams
of far away places,
both heaven and obscene.

as long as i'm not giving up
then i'm not giving in
and my dying breath will fan
the fire that's within.

i'm done with doors, it's time for bricks thrown through the windows,
no more handshakes, only elbows in chest cavities.
i want to bleed, to bleed,
to stain more lives than i could ever cast in shadow.
you can't see the scars i have so i'll earn the ones you can,
i want to be, to be,
to be.

Unavailable

When i look around the room i see that everything inside

is meant for someone else.

the pictures on the wall

the extra chair meant for a guest

the ashtray sitting there so silently 

now just an ugly paperweight

i never got to earn them

i could have but didn't see

now i sit here suffering

their availability

two cups to share the joe

a dresser meant for her clothes

an extra chair that wont stop screaming

it's the only thing i hear

everything here is meant for someone else

for a couple or a family but not for me

well i think it's time i changed that

it's my responsibility

i've got to stop this suffering

this availability

the coffee calms my nerves

a torn up sheet to make the rope

a dresser to write this letter on

the ashtray can hold the ring

the pictures on the wall

make for an okay final scene

this extra chair will stop it's screaming

when i kick it to the floor

oh yeah

whoa yeah

nothing in this room is meant for anybody now

not the letter, the story,

or the golden ring

and definitely not the body on the floor

oh yeah

whoa yeah

nothing in this room is meant for anybody else

not

any more.

Inside

Inside you

A melody

And if I press my ear

Against your chest

I can hear it sing

A sad song

A swan song

The final chorus

Of the angel inside you.