yakksoho
Bluelighter
The Anguish Of Martyrs
Looking down or lying down
Layers of rocks cloak me solid
I had a chance to sever them away from me
But that chance is gone
And now I will get to live with it
The rest of my life
The same thing will happen in exactly ten years
I will have the chance
To stand up and punch in boxes
And assemble running wheels for rats
And I like to say I'll do it
But I know I won't
It will be another layer
Of a crust that is now
Thicker than the bread
Ten years used to be a lot to me
Before I knew who I was
Hell, five years was a lot to me
But I have learned lessons without lashings
Between then and know
Not all lessons are hard or hurt
The hurt only comes from inside you
And revolves around how much you resist it
But what I take for granted
Doesn't have to be
Dripping off me in ten years
I like to think I'll change of heart
Between now and then
But I know I won't
There's a reason why underdogs are underdogs
To each Goliath his Polly Purebred
But some of us have chances
That we just don't take
Even though we realise
We will regret it later
Maybe the obsession
Lurking in pedofiliacs and corpse-fucking
Comes from the same concept
As masochism came
Tree-huggers and chauvanists
Hurt themselves for what is right
But mother-rapers and father-stabbers
Hurt themselves because they need it
It's all going deeper now
Than just the lack of a ruler to measure up against
Everything is interrelated
And folded out like paper dolls
Cut from the same sheet of paper
But losing extra pounds
And other ghastly metaphors
Strike matches, not grenades
Minefields that I tiptoed
Before I knew the differences
Between girls and boys
Strike a chord in me now
And when I got a second chance
As I have said before
I tore it up and spat and left it to rot
But carcases of trees and vægan maggots fried
Leave a labyrinth of obstacles
To weave my way around
Running into walls
And running circles in culdesacs
Are not attributed to stupidity
Or hapless chance (or two)
But instead is brought upon by the same reasons
Pictures waved a labyrinth
And blood fed every canyon
Plastic knives and jock straps
Are child's play to me
I like to think that in ten years
They'll be rotting in my closets
Along with cum-soaked fingers
And my first pair of nylon gloves
But everybody knows that when the time comes
Just like every time before
I'll take twenty minutes in the toilet
And end up late for opening night
After being on time
For all those rehersals
12.11.01
Looking down or lying down
Layers of rocks cloak me solid
I had a chance to sever them away from me
But that chance is gone
And now I will get to live with it
The rest of my life
The same thing will happen in exactly ten years
I will have the chance
To stand up and punch in boxes
And assemble running wheels for rats
And I like to say I'll do it
But I know I won't
It will be another layer
Of a crust that is now
Thicker than the bread
Ten years used to be a lot to me
Before I knew who I was
Hell, five years was a lot to me
But I have learned lessons without lashings
Between then and know
Not all lessons are hard or hurt
The hurt only comes from inside you
And revolves around how much you resist it
But what I take for granted
Doesn't have to be
Dripping off me in ten years
I like to think I'll change of heart
Between now and then
But I know I won't
There's a reason why underdogs are underdogs
To each Goliath his Polly Purebred
But some of us have chances
That we just don't take
Even though we realise
We will regret it later
Maybe the obsession
Lurking in pedofiliacs and corpse-fucking
Comes from the same concept
As masochism came
Tree-huggers and chauvanists
Hurt themselves for what is right
But mother-rapers and father-stabbers
Hurt themselves because they need it
It's all going deeper now
Than just the lack of a ruler to measure up against
Everything is interrelated
And folded out like paper dolls
Cut from the same sheet of paper
But losing extra pounds
And other ghastly metaphors
Strike matches, not grenades
Minefields that I tiptoed
Before I knew the differences
Between girls and boys
Strike a chord in me now
And when I got a second chance
As I have said before
I tore it up and spat and left it to rot
But carcases of trees and vægan maggots fried
Leave a labyrinth of obstacles
To weave my way around
Running into walls
And running circles in culdesacs
Are not attributed to stupidity
Or hapless chance (or two)
But instead is brought upon by the same reasons
Pictures waved a labyrinth
And blood fed every canyon
Plastic knives and jock straps
Are child's play to me
I like to think that in ten years
They'll be rotting in my closets
Along with cum-soaked fingers
And my first pair of nylon gloves
But everybody knows that when the time comes
Just like every time before
I'll take twenty minutes in the toilet
And end up late for opening night
After being on time
For all those rehersals
12.11.01
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