Hungry for the skies again,
but I know I need the ground,
but where to find the life
in this cold and shallow earth?
Dragging worn soles again,
giving into levitation...
I need some heavy shoes, but
my mind is drifting off down
a steady stream-of-consciousness,
lost in the rapids now,
doomed to be ripped to shreds
by these cold and jagged stones.
I'm in need of something to calm the chaos
raging inside of me, so tired of
fight or flight or opossum, a mental
blade now digs to help me bleed.
Always looking for another way to turn,
so certain there's got to be a better alternative.
If only I could find the key to the dimensions
I cannot open these ocular wells to see.
She could open her legs.
I could open my mind.
I could let the snake run inside her
or let it rise up my spine
and blossom my third eye.
So in need of silence
to calm the screaming...
fleeing into isolation from these
dry and narrow situations...
or do I need to speak louder,
does satisfaction lie in
finally being heard, in taking
the dials of their minds,
changing the station?
Satisfaction's in the sweat.
I rejoice only in exhaustion.
Only in extremes do I seem
to find any semblance of sanity
anything vaguley resembling clarity.
I need somewhere to spill this
overwhelming intensity swirling
inside me like an electric hurricane,
growing in vibrancy, raising in vibration,
putting me on the edge of calamity.
Out of the frigid night of nihilism,
into the peak of the flow,
marching in True Will straight
on into the dawn of my own
manufactured purpose
and meaning...
If only I could shed my skin.
Will you help and pick and pull
away at the sheaths as
they're shedding?
Don't worry, just let me bleed.
Pain is food, masochism's the
seed to something better, for
when pain transmutes to pleasure
no sensations are dominating,
only liberating,
and this is revealing something sensitive
and vulnerable beneath, something
with bright and wide and wild eyes,
something unmistakably alien,
crying for life,
crying for my nurturing,
screaming bloody murder
for recognition.
What is it now?
but I know I need the ground,
but where to find the life
in this cold and shallow earth?
Dragging worn soles again,
giving into levitation...
I need some heavy shoes, but
my mind is drifting off down
a steady stream-of-consciousness,
lost in the rapids now,
doomed to be ripped to shreds
by these cold and jagged stones.
I'm in need of something to calm the chaos
raging inside of me, so tired of
fight or flight or opossum, a mental
blade now digs to help me bleed.
Always looking for another way to turn,
so certain there's got to be a better alternative.
If only I could find the key to the dimensions
I cannot open these ocular wells to see.
She could open her legs.
I could open my mind.
I could let the snake run inside her
or let it rise up my spine
and blossom my third eye.
So in need of silence
to calm the screaming...
fleeing into isolation from these
dry and narrow situations...
or do I need to speak louder,
does satisfaction lie in
finally being heard, in taking
the dials of their minds,
changing the station?
Satisfaction's in the sweat.
I rejoice only in exhaustion.
Only in extremes do I seem
to find any semblance of sanity
anything vaguley resembling clarity.
I need somewhere to spill this
overwhelming intensity swirling
inside me like an electric hurricane,
growing in vibrancy, raising in vibration,
putting me on the edge of calamity.
Out of the frigid night of nihilism,
into the peak of the flow,
marching in True Will straight
on into the dawn of my own
manufactured purpose
and meaning...
If only I could shed my skin.
Will you help and pick and pull
away at the sheaths as
they're shedding?
Don't worry, just let me bleed.
Pain is food, masochism's the
seed to something better, for
when pain transmutes to pleasure
no sensations are dominating,
only liberating,
and this is revealing something sensitive
and vulnerable beneath, something
with bright and wide and wild eyes,
something unmistakably alien,
crying for life,
crying for my nurturing,
screaming bloody murder
for recognition.
What is it now?
