One Step Closer,
by rewired,
06/11/03,
8:10 AM.
I seek to know myself to see
my own greatest enemy:
mirror, mirror, on the wall,
I'll do my best to face it all;
outside, above my yard I've seen
a glowing object, hovering:
twinkle, twinkle, little `star',
I'll soon discover what you are.
Just a bit further:
how longer could this go on?
And her resistance is murder,
but she's part of the myth,
so I'll play along.
For I've been down like Dante.
I've been taken by
black-eyed, wingless faeries;
those shape-shifting,
mind-raping creatures.
And I saw the crone from
the school on the hill.
I've been hag-ridden and
I've seen the glowing red eyes
of a black hound straight out of hell.
I've been the heretic.
I've been chicken little.
And I tried to be the hero, but
I'm broken and lost in space,
above the earth, with my ears
littered with the sound of a
thousand children laughing and playing,
waiting to be given birth.
I don't want to fight tonight, as she
stirs the tension to untold heights, but
Peter Pan's philosophy
-- the promise of happy thoughts --
has failed me again tonight.
I'm left trying to pin down a
shadow out
of control
and bring his dark
to light.
So I
take my bitter elixir
every swifty
climb atop this
sleeping beauty:
my dark catharsis,
can you wake me
from monsters in
space ships and
from monsters
in mirrors;
deliver me
back to ecstasy,
onto a better
dreaming,
one step closer
to meaning?
by rewired,
06/11/03,
8:10 AM.
I seek to know myself to see
my own greatest enemy:
mirror, mirror, on the wall,
I'll do my best to face it all;
outside, above my yard I've seen
a glowing object, hovering:
twinkle, twinkle, little `star',
I'll soon discover what you are.
Just a bit further:
how longer could this go on?
And her resistance is murder,
but she's part of the myth,
so I'll play along.
For I've been down like Dante.
I've been taken by
black-eyed, wingless faeries;
those shape-shifting,
mind-raping creatures.
And I saw the crone from
the school on the hill.
I've been hag-ridden and
I've seen the glowing red eyes
of a black hound straight out of hell.
I've been the heretic.
I've been chicken little.
And I tried to be the hero, but
I'm broken and lost in space,
above the earth, with my ears
littered with the sound of a
thousand children laughing and playing,
waiting to be given birth.
I don't want to fight tonight, as she
stirs the tension to untold heights, but
Peter Pan's philosophy
-- the promise of happy thoughts --
has failed me again tonight.
I'm left trying to pin down a
shadow out
of control
and bring his dark
to light.
So I
take my bitter elixir
every swifty
climb atop this
sleeping beauty:
my dark catharsis,
can you wake me
from monsters in
space ships and
from monsters
in mirrors;
deliver me
back to ecstasy,
onto a better
dreaming,
one step closer
to meaning?
