midnight winter ramble
you wanna hear that hot shit
don't wanna make your thoughts flip
gonna feel your heart skip
need to get a better grip
try to better handle it.
wanna see the world stripped
but stop it 'fore it all rips
riding on a sinking ship.
you can't hide forever. you can't keep your eyes closed
you didn't have a choice; you were still exposed
and now you're angry, you're a little pissed at fate
but you've got the chance to do something instead of wait
no one is going to rescue you; no one's gonna make it okay
no one needs to honor you with your own holiday parade
that doesn't mean you're free from the duty toward better
and it takes perseverance against the negatively clever.
your images are lackluster, is that all the best you can muster? i can't trust her, that kind with a manipulative mind, trying to find a trick to make everyone have it her way, trying to take as much as she can today without any regard for tomorrow. my sorrow isn't enough to keep her from consuming, like her hormones got stuck in the early phases of blooming and now she has subscribed to a life of everything having a price. so she earns but she yearns for a better connection, misplaces her want, thrusts against a capital erection and spends her time and energies in the wrong directions.
too much time is given to trivial things. interaction has become a commodity, a treasure, a pleasure that is reduced to goal-oriented transaction, and beneath the exchanges there is the bitterness of dissatisfaction. we waltz with dionysis, inhale, drink, and drown--it's simpler than letting every real thing get us down. what happened to every person who tried to get us into the now? not just the moment, warm with transcendence, but with this breathing network, this obvious interdependence. we can't just spend this time giving in to the sin of sensation, of repetition of mistakes, we can't dispose the awareness of a future component. because thought there's nothing wrong with living in the moment, there's something drastically sad about denying change, something depressing about how things stay the same.
he makes me so violent, that i think about trying it, just to make him that started it stop, knowing that will only add to the same cycle, feeling helpless when determination is vital, not just for survival but to encourage evolution, giving up too easily as if there were only one singular solution. he clings to these words, these expressions of a time long before mine, and i am trying to write my own declarations rather than rely on proclamations that have lost their literal sense. and in tradition's defense, he says that is how we were built, that is how we have made it this far, with the beliefs that thrived despite all the scars they left. to reach justice we relied on the unjust, now you explain to me in which god i should trust.
because they've all been used to promote hypocrasy. they've all been blamed for new forms of atrocity. but the gods get a bad name from the way people use them. in the veins of our bodies, bolder than the myths that came from once upon a time, is a link, a code, that shows we're all from the same line. we wandered out, we multiplied, we conquered with fear, we watched as more of what we knew disappeared. we adapted, we assimilated, we demanded certain standards. we got past a lot, but not all our prayers have been answered.
because we can't rely on a power outside of ourselves.
sometime i don't know anymore who i am speaking to, these fragmented truths, no matter how carefully i make the words stick, it's too thick out there to penetrate, too fogged with disillusionment and hate, too tired, to bored, too preoccupied, to busy, too lazy, too angry, too focused to take a deeper look within me--
and see.
what it means
that it's all connected.
it takes discipline to initiate the kind ripples that lead to the bigger waves, and for every piece of humanity saved, there will always be a disaster making its way, trying to interrupt, trying to corrupt, trying to tempt us toward bankrupt.
so to tame all these thoughts when they run amuck, i get back to that center where the lightning once struck, where there is an ache, and a flame, and a stone that's tender, where there is a hope that still tries to remember
what it means
that it is all connected.
don't wanna make your thoughts flip
gonna feel your heart skip
need to get a better grip
try to better handle it.
wanna see the world stripped
but stop it 'fore it all rips
riding on a sinking ship.
you can't hide forever. you can't keep your eyes closed
you didn't have a choice; you were still exposed
and now you're angry, you're a little pissed at fate
but you've got the chance to do something instead of wait
no one is going to rescue you; no one's gonna make it okay
no one needs to honor you with your own holiday parade
that doesn't mean you're free from the duty toward better
and it takes perseverance against the negatively clever.
your images are lackluster, is that all the best you can muster? i can't trust her, that kind with a manipulative mind, trying to find a trick to make everyone have it her way, trying to take as much as she can today without any regard for tomorrow. my sorrow isn't enough to keep her from consuming, like her hormones got stuck in the early phases of blooming and now she has subscribed to a life of everything having a price. so she earns but she yearns for a better connection, misplaces her want, thrusts against a capital erection and spends her time and energies in the wrong directions.
too much time is given to trivial things. interaction has become a commodity, a treasure, a pleasure that is reduced to goal-oriented transaction, and beneath the exchanges there is the bitterness of dissatisfaction. we waltz with dionysis, inhale, drink, and drown--it's simpler than letting every real thing get us down. what happened to every person who tried to get us into the now? not just the moment, warm with transcendence, but with this breathing network, this obvious interdependence. we can't just spend this time giving in to the sin of sensation, of repetition of mistakes, we can't dispose the awareness of a future component. because thought there's nothing wrong with living in the moment, there's something drastically sad about denying change, something depressing about how things stay the same.
he makes me so violent, that i think about trying it, just to make him that started it stop, knowing that will only add to the same cycle, feeling helpless when determination is vital, not just for survival but to encourage evolution, giving up too easily as if there were only one singular solution. he clings to these words, these expressions of a time long before mine, and i am trying to write my own declarations rather than rely on proclamations that have lost their literal sense. and in tradition's defense, he says that is how we were built, that is how we have made it this far, with the beliefs that thrived despite all the scars they left. to reach justice we relied on the unjust, now you explain to me in which god i should trust.
because they've all been used to promote hypocrasy. they've all been blamed for new forms of atrocity. but the gods get a bad name from the way people use them. in the veins of our bodies, bolder than the myths that came from once upon a time, is a link, a code, that shows we're all from the same line. we wandered out, we multiplied, we conquered with fear, we watched as more of what we knew disappeared. we adapted, we assimilated, we demanded certain standards. we got past a lot, but not all our prayers have been answered.
because we can't rely on a power outside of ourselves.
sometime i don't know anymore who i am speaking to, these fragmented truths, no matter how carefully i make the words stick, it's too thick out there to penetrate, too fogged with disillusionment and hate, too tired, to bored, too preoccupied, to busy, too lazy, too angry, too focused to take a deeper look within me--
and see.
what it means
that it's all connected.
it takes discipline to initiate the kind ripples that lead to the bigger waves, and for every piece of humanity saved, there will always be a disaster making its way, trying to interrupt, trying to corrupt, trying to tempt us toward bankrupt.
so to tame all these thoughts when they run amuck, i get back to that center where the lightning once struck, where there is an ache, and a flame, and a stone that's tender, where there is a hope that still tries to remember
what it means
that it is all connected.
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