Blankly & the Broken Mirror.
Before it all falls away, take out the trash.
Do a little spring cleaning and refresh your mind.
Remember what you learned, and where
it didn’t get you in life.
Your knees bleed of
subservience.
You lost your balls when you spent
too much time sucking the world’s dick.
You lost yourself when you thought you were the
accumulation of the pieces of those that you envy
and the opposite of that which you
passionately oppose.
Before it all falls away, take off the mask, do
a little dusting, and take a look in the dirty,
cracked mirror at your mother fucking ugly self,
if you can pry your eyelids loose from the
threads of ignorance that bind them.
See if you can peer through the
clouds in your eyes and spy
the rivers of spiritual death pour like
a waterfall from the conduit
of your pupils.
Ain’t that a fucking sight?
The sickened, sordid sonuvabitch
that stares back at you blankly, asking,
why did you FUCKING FORGET ME?
So why did I
fucking forget me and let me
become what it is I've become:
a peice of putrid fiction, who's closest moments
of authenticity are limited to the few
occasions, usually in solitude, where
I become a crude mimickry of the
inner spiritual core of me with
which I've lost touch?
Why did I fucking forget me?
Am I irreversably fated to stay in this state?
Am I stuck with what I've become?
Am I doomed to this fate of lost-in-nowhere
with no memory of home?
All the same, I've got to reverse the voice,
turn the finger to point to the
one who's truly the enemy.
Clear to see that it
was me to Me.
I forgot to water the roots.
I forgot to feed the flame.
I’m the one who lost the meaning
as I became an empty name.
I'm the one to blame.
[ 19 February 2003: Message edited by: rewiiired ]
Before it all falls away, take out the trash.
Do a little spring cleaning and refresh your mind.
Remember what you learned, and where
it didn’t get you in life.
Your knees bleed of
subservience.
You lost your balls when you spent
too much time sucking the world’s dick.
You lost yourself when you thought you were the
accumulation of the pieces of those that you envy
and the opposite of that which you
passionately oppose.
Before it all falls away, take off the mask, do
a little dusting, and take a look in the dirty,
cracked mirror at your mother fucking ugly self,
if you can pry your eyelids loose from the
threads of ignorance that bind them.
See if you can peer through the
clouds in your eyes and spy
the rivers of spiritual death pour like
a waterfall from the conduit
of your pupils.
Ain’t that a fucking sight?
The sickened, sordid sonuvabitch
that stares back at you blankly, asking,
why did you FUCKING FORGET ME?
So why did I
fucking forget me and let me
become what it is I've become:
a peice of putrid fiction, who's closest moments
of authenticity are limited to the few
occasions, usually in solitude, where
I become a crude mimickry of the
inner spiritual core of me with
which I've lost touch?
Why did I fucking forget me?
Am I irreversably fated to stay in this state?
Am I stuck with what I've become?
Am I doomed to this fate of lost-in-nowhere
with no memory of home?
All the same, I've got to reverse the voice,
turn the finger to point to the
one who's truly the enemy.
Clear to see that it
was me to Me.
I forgot to water the roots.
I forgot to feed the flame.
I’m the one who lost the meaning
as I became an empty name.
I'm the one to blame.
[ 19 February 2003: Message edited by: rewiiired ]
