abject absolution

i'm here today to talk about you. the perpetually mistaken and ever forgettful you. you have always fallen just short of my expectations. you leave me with the feeling i get after im interrupted from a good dream to face the real world. like a lover's embrace you always leave me wanting something more. you are nothing more to me than the novocaine i pump into my heart to erase the guilt. and nothing less than the sore on the inside of my cheek that keeps bleeding every time i touch it with my tongue. court is in session and you are on trial. but how is it that you always end up under the gavel of this stonefaced judge. this is all a matter of perspective and the situation changes with each brushstroke. with enough paint we can make this masterpiece our own. but in the end all that's left is the artist and the canvas, the blank page that swallows our darkest thoughts. take a peek under all the makeup beauty queen, and tell me what you see. i'm not saying that you're not gorgeous, i'm just suggesting that you might see someting the cameras don't. and i should know what that's like, because underneath the layers of false pride and just behind this holier than thou mask lies a trembling little boy, terrified that all the imperfections and insecurities that wander around in the confines of my mind will threaten to break free at any time. the framework of every single relationship is secrecy and manipulation. we speak in terms of supply and demand and every emotion has been pasturized and homogenized to the point of acceptance. somewhere in all this chaos and entanglement of finger pointing family lost its meaning. maybe im too old to dream but somehow deep inside i know we were designed for something much greater and our hearts were made to harbor humility not vanity. now i'm no political expert and i don't have a doctorate in foreign affairs but maybe, just maybe if we stopped pointing the barrel of the gun at one another and took one second to look at all the beauty if this life; maybe then we could just take our fingers off the trigger and stop shifting blame in bullets and spreading hope in blood. i hear a strong wind of change and its voice is love. it starts with you and it starts with me. so let's stop blaming you and start taking responsibility for me.

concrete valley

this is a world sculpted by our need for isolation. the skyline grows and twists upward like steel and glass vines choking out the sun. we make our peace with lonliness here under the shadows. this is our last stand, the flourescent march to the iron sea. every step resounds like crashing waves, the perfect symphony of progress. we will submit our lives to the tide for the sake of your family values. everything is done for the greater good as we sacrifice purpose to the pagan gods. these are the times that try our souls so we look to our stained glass ritual for deliverence. all we want are answers, truth is a luxury. the search will end at the glistening gates of our great, immutable factory. its chimenys resolutely go on constructing the atmosphere. black raindrops fall to our barren ground and bring a sense of salvation. we drop to our knees and petition the sky for vices to numb the pain away. we now mass produce simplicity. how did we stray so far from the Architect's blueprints? our morals have become nothing more than the pnuematic current that carries our self-righteousness. this stagnant, man-made existence is so hollow.

hey richie, the 80's called and they want their spandex back.

here in this manufactured city we sleep safely inside the elastic walls or our suburbia. an ever-expanding kingdom produced by the assembly line. everyone here dreams of living but these dreams remain forgotten in the confines of our lonely beds. the bright sun, burning in the cloudless sky is courtesy of the weathermen hidden in their balloons high above. they forcast a downpour of eternal bliss. as the pills rain down, the sun melts our plastic landscape. the air we breath is toxic, yet we go on breathing just the same. this complaisant existence carries the weight of extinction. while the bombs fall we cheer for the curtain call. if we find this meaning in our minds then is it meaning at all? or just cold, lifeless doctrine?

that fanny-pack matches very nicely with your turtleneck

to a world that longs for the intimacy of 1,000 desperate arms and clings to their warmth. this is the end where the means are always justified and the status quo is our riot control. this morphine induced state of peace is our hallow legacy. death beats in my chest, with a framework crafted in the grave. how can this spineless creature hold onto so much pride? "follow me and i will make you butchers of men." manipulation steals my love. art is now officially dead, binary is all we will ever need. we make our beds on broken mirrors and wonder why our reflections are smeared with blood. we built this church in the rolling hills of La Mancha and don Quixote cares for our souls. in that distant land they only speak in tongues of idealism. if this is all we will be remembered for, then forget i even existed. la esperanza no es una arma. la esperanza es un cancion sin notas. la esperanza no es un amigo. la esperanza es un extranjero. la esperanza no es un conclusion feliz. la esperanza es una guerra.

ACT I: sabotage, drama, and romance(and all this in a fast food restaurant)

something tells me this is all a lie. these tears are just chemical and these feelings mechanically engineered. and my deeds are only a result of calculated conditioning. money bleeds from the walls of this holy city and its gates welcome all who are weary that seek rest(success). theives and saints alike gather to carve a tombstone fit for God. its citizens fight for a position atop the lonely pedastool and bury their own in trenches of hypocrisy. in this great arms race, its arsonal overflows with scare tactics and condescending slogans. those who worship come to prey over the helpless. everything here is justified just as long as the victims remain dead. everything is justified. we have achieved a state of eternal tranquility(status quo). but what do we do when we realize that our guardian angels were really clever demons in disguise?

coping mechanism

here is where innocence evaporates into an atmosphere of realism. even sleep is void of dreams. every word is stripped of sentiment. all truth is drenched in cynicism. this is self-help at its finest. subtle criticism was the only sound that poured from his father's lips. never an affirmation of love, simply a hallow embrace. a self-esteem branded by short-comings. he dressed his insecurity in an elaborate suit of pride. searching for acceptance, he finds himself between other people's sheets. he dreads sleeping alone and letting his mind wander back to the sulking child in his closet. numb and tired of sharing her heart only to have it broken, she resolved to settle things her own way. she now wears her hope on her wrists. control and feeling are welcomed back in a crimson tide. the dependable pattern has become second nature. we have taken the salvation of mankind upon ourselves. if i didn't know we were dying i might find it beatiful.

repeating childhood memories

put me on exhibit. show me off to the crowd. parade me through the streets. i share the lion's eyes. a hopeless shade of grey. looking past rusty, metal bars out onto a world of vivid color. both tamed and trademarked in a distant, corporate cubicle. the simple diversion of children's dreams is the only thing keeping this place from becoming a burial ground. all my limbs are now vestigal and the roots are creeping up and starting to swallow me. but life wasn't always so confined. the laughter outside almost conquers the silence when i think about the freedom that once covered me. i was once liberated but now ive lost my way. this maze is making me sick and each wrong turn is paved by the walls of my ever-beating heart. even if i called out to you for help, my every word would be caught between the bars of their ivory prison. my life without you is a never ending trip to the zoo.