I try and grasp the water till I learn to cup the hands
and sip before it dribbles away, bleeding back into the circular flow
that reflects, beneath the waves and ripples, its very own masquerade,
the layers of skin for my vessel,
the age-old moulds I've called my face.
Now, grab your pen.
Take your notes for the censored edition.
Hell, I've got a wealthy, raw volume at home, not for prying eyes,
for I will not suffer under the weight of a label
to conquer this one, wretched and chronic roadblock,
a wall, thick and apparently impenetrable.
No, I've given you enough.
So let's go ahead and play this old game of connect the dots.
Describe your father. Tell me about mother.
I've been through all this shit before.
Just help me help myself.
Just help me help myself.
Does the secret really hide away in the past?
Can I find an answer without the question's reason?
Must we dig this up by the roots?
Is catharsis ultimately necessary for alchemy?
One upon a time, I had thought so,
but this fucked up faerie tale has yet to end
with a happily ever after,
not that I would ever ask for so much anyway.
Though deep inside, I ask too much.
I mean, why can't you just hand me the wheel of my mind, motherfucker?
Let me play my own emotions like a goddamn grand piano.
Help me find the controls.
You say it will be a long process.
Well, it has been a long process,
for longer than you'd stress to conceive,
and I'm forced to wonder.
To reconsider my tactics.
To know thyself
need one know who he's been,
how he came to be?
A hundred shattered memories.
A dozen lifetimes scattered
like puzzle pieces all around me
swirling in the cyclone within.
Been catching those amphetamine-driven butterfly nuggets for years
but it means dick without the picture on the box
that has yet to be bestowed upon me.
The solution could be contained in the problem,
but the problem has context as well as the weight of history,
so must it be mapped out and put on the scale and dissected?
For I've been at it for years and survived.
So could you give me a pill so perhaps I could learn
to live before I die again?
I don't want to sweep this all under the rug,
don't get me wrong, I just need to find a way to levitate.
Just give me a pill so perhaps I could learn
to live before I die again.
For I do, I die and survive
but mere survival's a lonely friend.
I die and die, but like a stray
it forever comes back again.
And I just want something more.
I need something more than this.
and sip before it dribbles away, bleeding back into the circular flow
that reflects, beneath the waves and ripples, its very own masquerade,
the layers of skin for my vessel,
the age-old moulds I've called my face.
Now, grab your pen.
Take your notes for the censored edition.
Hell, I've got a wealthy, raw volume at home, not for prying eyes,
for I will not suffer under the weight of a label
to conquer this one, wretched and chronic roadblock,
a wall, thick and apparently impenetrable.
No, I've given you enough.
So let's go ahead and play this old game of connect the dots.
Describe your father. Tell me about mother.
I've been through all this shit before.
Just help me help myself.
Just help me help myself.
Does the secret really hide away in the past?
Can I find an answer without the question's reason?
Must we dig this up by the roots?
Is catharsis ultimately necessary for alchemy?
One upon a time, I had thought so,
but this fucked up faerie tale has yet to end
with a happily ever after,
not that I would ever ask for so much anyway.
Though deep inside, I ask too much.
I mean, why can't you just hand me the wheel of my mind, motherfucker?
Let me play my own emotions like a goddamn grand piano.
Help me find the controls.
You say it will be a long process.
Well, it has been a long process,
for longer than you'd stress to conceive,
and I'm forced to wonder.
To reconsider my tactics.
To know thyself
need one know who he's been,
how he came to be?
A hundred shattered memories.
A dozen lifetimes scattered
like puzzle pieces all around me
swirling in the cyclone within.
Been catching those amphetamine-driven butterfly nuggets for years
but it means dick without the picture on the box
that has yet to be bestowed upon me.
The solution could be contained in the problem,
but the problem has context as well as the weight of history,
so must it be mapped out and put on the scale and dissected?
For I've been at it for years and survived.
So could you give me a pill so perhaps I could learn
to live before I die again?
I don't want to sweep this all under the rug,
don't get me wrong, I just need to find a way to levitate.
Just give me a pill so perhaps I could learn
to live before I die again.
For I do, I die and survive
but mere survival's a lonely friend.
I die and die, but like a stray
it forever comes back again.
And I just want something more.
I need something more than this.
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