REELING
There's a man who's wondering
if he'll make it to next week.
His telephone is ringing.
Two years on the wagon,
His life was back on track,
but now he's caved,
a terminal slave
to the horizontal rain
that streaks through the recesses
of his saturated brain.
A cold wind curls off the inside of his skull
as he stares at the ceiling,
senses reeling,
lost all feeling...
Just another twist of another cap,
and it's a step closer to the end of being trapped
in the prison of a life dripped on
by the slow trickle of a gutter clogged
with filthy remnants
of hopes and dreams.
A life polluted by the weight of the world.
A man once vibrant
with a sense of self-worth
with a sense of humor
with a sense of freedom.
A man with a vision
of a place
where he would place
his puzzle piece.
But this puzzle got left out in the rain
And pieces missing
Got soaked and frayed.
So he cracks another
to drown the pain.
What drives a person to this point?
Divorced and ditched,
and divorced from the life of the past.
Linked to addiction
like a fucking curse.
Handcuffed to a slowly sinking car.
Sinking.
Sinking for years.
There he is on the floor.
His telephone stopped ringing.
SANITY IS FOR THE PASSIVE
The sky is turning brown and the trees are shriveling up
Pollutants are rising, colliding, and raining down
We thought the end would be aflame, with deadly shrieks of pain
We thought the fury would pour straight from our very souls
And the bastards' heads would stare down from the tops of poles
But we started at the end
We started at the the end...
Unwittingly, we mimic society
With our sub-sects, genres, and in-fighting
Not realizing that our constant agitation
Has roots in our need for transient migration
To exist like this is a constant struggle
And sanity is a state of mind reserved for the passive
We stopped watching the news 'cause we couldn't take it anymore
We've been a plague upon this earth since a long long time ago
We try and try to stop the tide, but we know we're all doomed
We're drowning in our own confusion, reaching for the moon
We squirm and twitch as our nature persists
Telling us we can't live this way, we must resist
We're dreamers, wide awake amid comfortably sleeping sheep
Lazy grazers, passively placid, constantly telling us
"Rest your head, you worry too much"...
I woke up in a cold sweat from a dream that has come true
The end times are upon us and there's nothing we can do
We're pollinating hatred at a rate the bees can't match
And the Devil's mouth is open and we're going down the hatch
Apocalyptic nightmares seem so quaint compared to this
A creeping, slow decay of life which we all seemed to miss
And what we miss is always all that nature seems to catch
We've ripped the earth wide open and we're going down the hatch
The padlock on the gates of hell hangs from a rusty slot
And keeping that thing locked seems like the only chance we've got
But we invented hell and that's why we're the key that turns the latch
And the Devil's mouth's wide open and we're going down the hatch
Why do we participate so willingly?
A dependent stain
In our isolation
We remain reluctant, fawning parasites
Rising, colliding, and raining down
CHOKED AT THE ROOTS
There's a man who's wondering
if he'll make it to next week.
His telephone is ringing.
Two years on the wagon,
His life was back on track,
but now he's caved,
a terminal slave
to the horizontal rain
that streaks through the recesses
of his saturated brain.
A cold wind curls off the inside of his skull
as he stares at the ceiling,
senses reeling,
lost all feeling...
Just another twist of another cap,
and it's a step closer to the end of being trapped
in the prison of a life dripped on
by the slow trickle of a gutter clogged
with filthy remnants
of hopes and dreams.
A life polluted by the weight of the world.
A man once vibrant
with a sense of self-worth
with a sense of humor
with a sense of freedom.
A man with a vision
of a place
where he would place
his puzzle piece.
But this puzzle got left out in the rain
And pieces missing
Got soaked and frayed.
So he cracks another
to drown the pain.
What drives a person to this point?
Divorced and ditched,
and divorced from the life of the past.
Linked to addiction
like a fucking curse.
Handcuffed to a slowly sinking car.
Sinking.
Sinking for years.
There he is on the floor.
His telephone stopped ringing.
SANITY IS FOR THE PASSIVE
The sky is turning brown and the trees are shriveling up
Pollutants are rising, colliding, and raining down
We thought the end would be aflame, with deadly shrieks of pain
We thought the fury would pour straight from our very souls
And the bastards' heads would stare down from the tops of poles
But we started at the end
We started at the the end...
Unwittingly, we mimic society
With our sub-sects, genres, and in-fighting
Not realizing that our constant agitation
Has roots in our need for transient migration
To exist like this is a constant struggle
And sanity is a state of mind reserved for the passive
We stopped watching the news 'cause we couldn't take it anymore
We've been a plague upon this earth since a long long time ago
We try and try to stop the tide, but we know we're all doomed
We're drowning in our own confusion, reaching for the moon
We squirm and twitch as our nature persists
Telling us we can't live this way, we must resist
We're dreamers, wide awake amid comfortably sleeping sheep
Lazy grazers, passively placid, constantly telling us
"Rest your head, you worry too much"...
I woke up in a cold sweat from a dream that has come true
The end times are upon us and there's nothing we can do
We're pollinating hatred at a rate the bees can't match
And the Devil's mouth is open and we're going down the hatch
Apocalyptic nightmares seem so quaint compared to this
A creeping, slow decay of life which we all seemed to miss
And what we miss is always all that nature seems to catch
We've ripped the earth wide open and we're going down the hatch
The padlock on the gates of hell hangs from a rusty slot
And keeping that thing locked seems like the only chance we've got
But we invented hell and that's why we're the key that turns the latch
And the Devil's mouth's wide open and we're going down the hatch
Why do we participate so willingly?
A dependent stain
In our isolation
We remain reluctant, fawning parasites
Rising, colliding, and raining down
CHOKED AT THE ROOTS
Seeds were planted long ago - mistrust
Our natural instincts choked at the roots
Love, sharing, compassion - we lost
Overgrown by fear, greed and envy
So while we learned to cultivate and sow
We also learned to fight and kill
And the blood began to flow
Unchecked desires for power and control
Became the dominant forces in our world
We know what's right or wrong
Without having to stop and think
And we know when we've done wrong
If we listen to our instincts
Yet we tear apart what's good
And dissect with prejudice
So many positive things
Distracted by the noise, we spend our time collecting toys
Instinct becomes skewed, atrophied from lack of use
The deadening of instinct creates creatures emotionally weak
We are spinning out of control
We've got our life support in a chokehold
Soon the time will come
That we face up to what we've done
Disconnected from our normal state
We let the tension turn to hate
Beaten down by all the stress
We can't afford true happiness
Smart enough to see the truth
But out of touch with primal roots
Taught to see a certain way
And to ignore what we can't see
Now the time has come
That we face up to what we've done
The final war that won't be won
Will be waged without a gun
Without a gun
Armageddon
It won't be god
It will be us
Now we see a world society
Dominated by poisoned thinking
The signs are all around us that most people don't want this
But it's accepted that's the way things are
And no one is normal in this environment
And no one is healthy with this mental bombardment
And so we're destroying ourselves
When the judgement comes
It won't be god, it will be us
Reflected in a pool of oily blood
A murky, shadowy, fractured image
Of what we know
We could be