Though I have held on before,
tonight it seems to give me more.
What I meant was unintelligent
but who is keeping score?
My brain it feels a little compressed,
my heart is beating out of my chest.
It’s because of me that you can hardly see,
and I guess you know the rest.
I count myself lucky I was counted on at all
and it’s premature to assume I’ll make it to a curtain call.
I’ll sleep easy tonight
now that I’ve set out my stall.
I’m sick to death of reliving it;
the morning leaves too much to admit
but to my surprise, a blessing in disguise,
I bet this won’t hurt a bit.
Head first I dive and elbow deep,
and yet again the price is steep.
I promise, I swear you’ll never know I’m there
so I guess that trust is cheap.
The sunlight sets in stone what I’ve known all along,
that all I’ve left for you to do is find a way to prove me wrong.
It won’t be that hard, my trail of bread crumbs stretches for miles to see.
But if we pick up the pieces and start from scratch again
then it results in a spiteful lie that permeates through all my friends.
Scratch the surface and the building crumbles down.
It’s premature to assume I’ll make it back home at all.
I’ll sleep easy tonight,
counting my blessings to break my fall.
Track Name: I'll Get Back to Ya
I can’t reconcile my decision.
It’s impossible to comprehend, this mental division.
Ignore my silent support for the notion,
the miraculous claims of this brand new potion.
We seem to judge with omniscience the thing,
which we regard with total indifference.
With itchy trigger fingers guarding self- destruct systems,
the occupation has become the illness not the symptom.
I see myself walking on water.
Then I see my reflection,
appearing so distorted.
I must abort the idea that this is reality.
A fork in the road, forced at gun point to behold
the results of the choices I forgot I made.
Bring back the statutes of decency to this place
or we will live to see its’ last days.
I conclude that this must be a dream
because reality has never been so kind.
Track Name: Fate is a Person and They Attend Meetings
I see ignorance on the faces of the innocents’.
We failed to incentivise them away from their treasured prizes
and into the lions’ den they all march, with heads held in their hands.
It’s tough at the top but it’s rougher in the middle
so we’ll take these little victories, when they come along.
And shove them back down their throats,
and if it tastes of disappointment then it’s better than I hoped.
So is this the best we can come up with?
A zenith of society that claims invincibility
but civilisation implies a little more
than handshakes in front of the press.
Stab them in the back next time, another shot
to the heart could tear this relationship apart.
Maybe that was the aim all along; to stem the country’s cynicism
with a question that you cannot answer wrong.
I’ve called it off, the revolution I had planned.
I resolved to the cause
but no one gave me a helping hand.
Marching back to front and back to the drawing board.
Will you stand in front of the cameras
and finally come clean about
the role that you played
in causing this catastrophe.
Fate is a gambling addict you mustn’t tempt it.
Its all been said before but it seems so implicit.
Track Name: Codeine on an HD Screen
I’ve got my eye in at last
with some tarot cards and an hourglass.
I’ve contemplated long enough;
the moment is now long in the past.
With our hands tied behind our backs,
it’s no wonder we’ve developed
a brand new breed of muscle relaxants,
delivered on a TV screen not down the oesophagus.
I’ve seen the bill-boards change
as the advertisers up their game.
A promise only half fulfilled
is a promise never made.
The winter darkness nullifies
our willingness to sympathise,
so I’ll pinch myself awake,
lifting the haze and raising the stakes.
You’re just posturing in the accusation of naivety.
Strengthen your foundations,
while wounds are licked
and vacant minds are put at ease.
The effects are wearing off from a shock to the system
with no appropriate response.
We’re stabbing in the dark once more,
a fact we can no longer ignore.
Sure enough, the mirror holds more answers
than a soapbox ever could.