Johnny went to frosted flake
To go for a walk in the frozen wood
He bumped into a mushroom
That sold his body for some warm food
"Eat me my friend, you'll be the leader of the band"
Johnny's hand reached out
Luckily there was mr doubt
Mr doubt the old man was the surveyor
Of frosted flake wood
He tried to sell hesitation wherever he could
"Buy some doubt"
Feel free he yelled loud
"Friends it won't hurt"
Luckily there was big bird
For god's sake run away
Or it won't be your lucky day
Leave this forest behind
This ain't a place for human kind
kinda like a cloud I was up
way up in the sky
and I was feeling some feelings you wouldn't believe
sometimes I don't believe them myself
and I decided I was never coming down
just then a tiny little dot caught my eye
it was just about too small to see
but I watched it way too long
it was pulling me down
shut up so what
what does it matter now
I was swimming in the haze
now I crawl on the ground
and everything I never liked about you
is kind of seeping into me
try to laugh about it now
but isn't it funny how everything works out
I used to be so big and strong
I used to know my right from wrong
I used to never be afraid
I used to be somebody
I used to have something inside
now just this hole that's open wide
I used to want it all
I used to be somebody
I'll cross my heart
I'll hope to die
but the needle's already in my eye
and all the world's weight is on my back
and I don't even know why
what I used to think was me is just a fading memory
I looked him right in the eye and said goodbye
My friend is losing her mind, for a fear of going insane, because no matter how down she is, there's still room below.
Her is no tragedy, just a life characterized by gross misinterpretations, unbending images of self and pure, uncut anger.
It never allows her to hang loose, or be without pain for one second. She is so aware of herself that the absurdity of it all is killing her.
And getting out of bed in the morning is like slow suicide, because she knows just what's going down.
Sometimes, I think you will have to kill someone just to maintain his mental balance. And as repulsive as it sounds, I will be able to justify his actions logically, fallibly, and with very little imagination.
Her life is beyond reason, the very nature of her being is so insane that I almost give up, searching for ways and meanings to comfort her, to keep her around until tomorrow. And if I thought that there was true peace in the grave, I would kill her. But fortunately for those who are miserable, and unfortunately for her, I do not believe that death will even things out. Unbeknownst to her, she is every friend that I have. She is the mirror, reflection of me, and I love myself.
A little fairy pricked just tonight,
she said, "one wish is granted for the girl who hates the world."
So I gave her all my money in a jar of broken dreams,
I gave her all my screams.
So rest assured you little pigs. All little piggies go to heaven.
.. a billion words ago
the sailors disappeared
a story for the children
to rock them back to sleep
a million burning books
like torches in our hands
a fabric of ideals
to decorate our homes
a thousand generations
the soil on which we walk
a mountain of mistakes
for us to climb for pleasure
a hundred clocks are ticking
the line becomes a circle
spin the wheel of fortune
or learn to navigate
a choir full of longing
will call our ships to port
the countless lonely voices
like whispers in the dark
a second of reflection can
take you to the moon
the slightest hesitation can
bring you down in flames
a single spark of passion
can change a man forever
a moment in a lifetime
is all it takes to break him
a fraction of a heartbeat
made us what we are
a brother and a sister
for better or for worse
a billion words ago
they sang a song of leaving
an echo from the chorus
will call them back again
a choir full of longing
tonight we light the fires
we call our ships to port
tonight we walk on water
and tomorrow we'll be gone
i see strange face in the mirror
i hold little nothing in my hand
i had a place on the sun and a
ticket to neverwhere
i had everything within my reach
too much but never enough
tear it up and watch it fall
And it reminded me of something in a book by Don DeLillo
about how terrorists
are the only true artists left,
because they're the only ones
who are still capable of really surprising people
There was a devout nun in the XVth century,
who decided to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.
But she belonged to an order that wore bags over their heads.
And the mother superior told the nun
that if she walked through the countryside with a bag on her head,
she would scare people.
But the nun insisted,
so the mother superior allowed to her to walk around and around the cloister,
every day
for three years
until she covered the equivalent distance to the Holy City.
At the end of her journey
the nun was so exhausted that she collapsed.
A doctor was called.
After examining her he announced that she was too weak to make the return trip.
The nun died shortly after.
There are forces in the air
Ghosts in the wind
Some bullets in the back
And some scars on the skin
There were demons with guns
Who marched through this place
Killing everything that breathed
They're an inhuman race
There are holes in the walls
Bloody hair on the bricks
And the smell of this hell
Is making me sick