Zmiana sposobu prezentacji
God sent you to the carnival
Painted your face and changed your name
"Blank's gone away," they did proclaim
The other day you wondered, "who?"
You played; performed
Crowded thunder roars
Center stage, wearing the lion's mane
Alive, because God would not let you die
He need not tell you that
Yes, Yes
You would forget what you did that day
That day when you went to the carnival
And what you did
And what you said
Sick sights and thought-horrors
That you did witness
But it's just another day at the...
You won't be happy
Because you gave one word
Two meanings
One word, two meanings
Three perceptions
Converging
For the best
For the worst
Over a year make it more,
but how much more can you make it;
ten, twenty, fifty, or thirty,
tell me, tell me,
make me rich; filthy?
Can you not spend that two dollars for more
than one year;
seven, eight, nine, twenty, or ten;
how much, how much would it
be worth then?
Can two dollars be more than just two dollars,
Spend a twenty every:
second, minute, hour;
feel it, feel it,
feel that power?
Take two dollars, take two dollars
see how many followers,
fans, tributes, and buildings
you can buy if you
wait and sings.
Take two dollars, my two dollars
write the life I want to live;
today, today, yesterday, tomorrow;
(...)
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Hello, My friend
I can't remember if you came
or left; it's been days against the wind
Same ol' fire; same ol' flame
They're bringing down the gate
time tick-tick-ticks away; it's late
Am I suppose to be here?
Perhaps there.
How about there?
I forgot to tell you...
Wait...
It's at a loss for...
Two think it's that important...
Time is tick-tick-ticking...
Barely...
I can't...
The heat arrived; the fire's gone
Now, where did I leave the match?
It's hard to believe that
something wretched can produce
something beautiful
to carry the seed
to bare generation
to carry the leaves
to fall isn't tragic
the bird that tears up the fruit
so simple, leaves a scar in the memories
a book tells two stories
one that's printed
and the other up until
it's cut down
your dillusionous greed
you took from the seed
how would you like your legs
out from underneath
the pain seems deathening
but trees don't partake in grief
(...)
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Dark and smokey rooms
with sounds from the unknown
a line seperates me from reality
and what may take me home
but it's all in my head
because my head is my home
as the breathing slows, life is vital
it all makes sense to what I'm shown
you can't teach a feeling felt from falling through expirience
the fog matches my thoughts, all blind and dense
so if I can't help myself
and you say you can't try
what's the point of living
but you won't let me die
to come out of the state
as we cross the boarder
keep a head on high hopes
and just be my shoulder
Not so much as a crutch
(...)
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What would you do if I claimed
I'm a Saint
Embodied as a sinner, but said
I'm the Savior
But I can't do this without you,
no, without you there is no
me, but take my hand and we, to-
-gether, can set the other's free.
I look down over the rock-side drop
I feel like God, over looking over a city
I slip back to reality
It's not what it's lived up to be
I fear, weak, my knees do shake
I set myself next to her
I die to place her hand in mine
It's not what it's lived up to be
I have spent passing days by night
I use her glow, as I would abide
I wait and wait, I'm hesitant
It's not
I hurt to help through
I still smile, and hold the moment still
I die to place her hand in mine
It's just not...
...fair like a madien in a midnight dream
or the tale of two lovers that makes you cry and weep
or actual events that make, take, and break
springing towards the water, when you know it isn't safe
Dear God, oh why God?
For, even I am afraid to look you in the eye,
But this time I need your wisdom
Please, just hear this subtle cry
I should not question thee, but Lord,
There is much to know
"What happened to our mother's beauty,
From the summer to the snow?
As her landscape grows so thin, and
her fruits grow weak and weary?
Her nature falls to pieces, and
she's beaten up unfairly?"
Dear God, oh why God?
For, even I am afraid to look you in the eye,
For we all grow weak and tired
Please, just hear this subtle cry
I should not question thee, but Lord,
There is much to know
"Why do some men stand before us us
with an omniscient-style glow?
The children are uncanny, acting
abstractly and dull?
(...)
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