I’ve died once before, died for your philosophy
Kept up with the stories, crushed with terror, running afraid from
The little white rabbit who chased me down his hole
Lay naked on the floor, feeling the spiders crawl into my skin

Finally found a reason to live
Plaster the walls with blood-brown decadence, the words run down
In one long stream
No longer concise, no longer meaningful
Twisted in their muddied grievance

Let me feel your breath so we can talk
Let me hear your voice, your woman-chant
Go from here, become lost, swallow yourself into the flaps of books
Gyroscope that falls apart
What consumes your thoughts controls your life
So-longer, I’ve never tried to fly, brought the torch to my ear
And tried to die

Everyone consumed in their faith
Controlled by their Russian-roulette faith
Every time I try to lose myself, someone finds me again
No one will let me be, I just want to get away
I’ve got a little gun
Maybe it’ll be my bantam surprise someday
Have you ever sat around all day saying not one word?
Run off the edge, because in the end it all goes away
Until the music of the mandolin guitar returns the ship to the harbor
With a lunatic guiding the man-post
The boats crash into the shore

There is a shipment aboard, brown and small
Left alone, no one knows it’s there
No one pays it any mind, and it could not be any more content
Because when the day comes to be opened, it will open up on the world

The stench of it’s hair multiplies with the insults it hears
Few can find any reason to believe it is real

A lost man, quiet in his living entity
No God, only a cold, heartless moon that gleams off his shining black soles
Sheltered ears in fright, the chill of the mind of a lonely man
A little gun in his pocket but he has no intention of using it
Except to shoot the moon itself out of the sky
The man in the moon stares at him, stalking his every move, he cannot get away