Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Gotta Live

I Must Be Dead

Paint these thoughts and lyrics like pictures and fixtures of the spirit lifters
All about the dollar figures when you can't determine the gold diggers
Remembering that one could be your baby moms if you forget the Trojan
Pretty faces turn ugly when your thoughts were hoping she was golden
Sitting there with all your money on the table wishing you had folded
You left with nothing, she has everything and still went ahead and sold it
You just want to do the right thing when the wrong seems easier
Then you frustrated when the skeeter thinks you're beneath her
The living contradiction of man make you hold onto your false evidence
Can't play king when you are letting your life be decided by the peasants
In the end it was all a scene in the movie playing out your life's plan
You win the Oscar for Best Failure of the Year in your performance
The inclination of being better seems to make you invincible
Even though past actions were no where near indispensable
Never around when things happen, Mr. Dependable
Keep making the same mistakes trying to be influential

~The Lord's Prayer~

When I went to hell and back they weren't by my side
Now I decide that if I died, who cares if tears enter their eyes
That's why I feel more alive then taking a spirit dives to the dark side
Back at 800 Ole' English all my problems would love to reside
But bottles and swallows don't build back the spiritually hollow
And how could you lead the people when you don't even follow
So inside you hide the lies and times that made you cry
Spending time carving your mask and false facades
Until the right person has access to the locket or court docket
And all I want to do is be amongst the stars with Spacely Sprocket
But can't seem to stop destroying everything like Ray Crockett
Sipping and coating moments, sending the illusion that it solved them
Waking up every morning with pain still sitting there waiting
Has me debating between hating or trading in the option of failing
And the drink is baiting me to keep taking him in and leave again
So my great escape is to pen poetry to bend the face lie continuum

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