I've got to pull myself together.
I've got to bring myself together,
but he crying, and she's screaming,
am I dead again, am I dreaming?
I'm so thirsty, won't you fill me?
Don't you tell me the cup's
really half empty, I want
to find hope in this,
I want to believe
in me, but
you're strangling me
you're holding me down
I can't move
I can't breath
I'm suffocating here
deprived of all my prana
eyes and mouth sewn shut
static raging in my ears
he's crying in my ears, bloody crying
she screaming, she's fucking screaming
my hands are tied
my feet are nailed to the floor
would you please tell me,
am I dead, do I have to
come back and go through
all of this again?
Will this spinning ever end?
A land called Tartarus
three-dimensional, material
existence is the only hell
I only desire not to desire
and for all my desires
to be fulfilled
fill me up again
break the glass
let me cut myself
you fucking bastard
I need the release
I'm alive in the bleeding
the vision that embraces me,
what do I see?
It's the tortoise chasing
the apple through the heat
of the desert again, watching
as the delicious, red fruit
swings closer now,
now, farther away,
is it the thought of the fruit's taste
or is it just chasing after it's own
reflection on the shiny, red surface?
It's the monkey again
on the back of the tortoise
with the fishing pole
and the line it drops below
the tortoise's head, with
the apple dangling at the end,
swinging closer now,
now, farther away,
as the determined continues
to chase after a dream
and pull his weight through
this desolate wasteland
with the red-orange sun
hanging so high above them
with the image of the triscale
hiding beneath it's blaze
and you fucking monkey
you're starving me
you're weighing me down
I can't move
I can't breath
I'm thirsty here
deprived of all my juices
eyes burned out, mouth gagged
your haunting cackling deafening me
my hands cut off at the wrists
I have no legs to stand on now
would you please tell me,
am I reborn, do I have to
leave and go through
all of this again?
Six inches to
six feet again?
In and out and
back around again?
Cradle to grave,
tomb to womb,
out one hole
six inches deep,
then swing to the
six feet down again?
I'm getting dizzy on this wheel.
Nauseous and disoriented.
Feeling like Atlas again.
Playing the role of
Chicken Little
once more.
I'm the Ugly Ducking.
I am Jeckle and you are Hyde.
Could we reach the maiden,
find a reconciliation?
Ease the infant's
separation cry?
I've got to bring
myself together.
I've got to pull
myself together.
I've got to bring myself together,
but he crying, and she's screaming,
am I dead again, am I dreaming?
I'm so thirsty, won't you fill me?
Don't you tell me the cup's
really half empty, I want
to find hope in this,
I want to believe
in me, but
you're strangling me
you're holding me down
I can't move
I can't breath
I'm suffocating here
deprived of all my prana
eyes and mouth sewn shut
static raging in my ears
he's crying in my ears, bloody crying
she screaming, she's fucking screaming
my hands are tied
my feet are nailed to the floor
would you please tell me,
am I dead, do I have to
come back and go through
all of this again?
Will this spinning ever end?
A land called Tartarus
three-dimensional, material
existence is the only hell
I only desire not to desire
and for all my desires
to be fulfilled
fill me up again
break the glass
let me cut myself
you fucking bastard
I need the release
I'm alive in the bleeding
the vision that embraces me,
what do I see?
It's the tortoise chasing
the apple through the heat
of the desert again, watching
as the delicious, red fruit
swings closer now,
now, farther away,
is it the thought of the fruit's taste
or is it just chasing after it's own
reflection on the shiny, red surface?
It's the monkey again
on the back of the tortoise
with the fishing pole
and the line it drops below
the tortoise's head, with
the apple dangling at the end,
swinging closer now,
now, farther away,
as the determined continues
to chase after a dream
and pull his weight through
this desolate wasteland
with the red-orange sun
hanging so high above them
with the image of the triscale
hiding beneath it's blaze
and you fucking monkey
you're starving me
you're weighing me down
I can't move
I can't breath
I'm thirsty here
deprived of all my juices
eyes burned out, mouth gagged
your haunting cackling deafening me
my hands cut off at the wrists
I have no legs to stand on now
would you please tell me,
am I reborn, do I have to
leave and go through
all of this again?
Six inches to
six feet again?
In and out and
back around again?
Cradle to grave,
tomb to womb,
out one hole
six inches deep,
then swing to the
six feet down again?
I'm getting dizzy on this wheel.
Nauseous and disoriented.
Feeling like Atlas again.
Playing the role of
Chicken Little
once more.
I'm the Ugly Ducking.
I am Jeckle and you are Hyde.
Could we reach the maiden,
find a reconciliation?
Ease the infant's
separation cry?
I've got to bring
myself together.
I've got to pull
myself together.
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