Reluctantly, I've started to climb out from beneath the weight I've endured for my whole life. My hesitance comes from the fear of the unknown. What more do I have to face? When everything seems to fall and fade away, I find myself fighting for life. Rise up out of the ashes and realign. Come out of the darkness and into the light. If this is not the right thing, if these tears can't heal these wounds, if this rebirth means nothing, then why should I stay in this world? Rise up out of the ashes and realign. Come out of the darkness and into the light. Realize we all fall in order to rise.

Everything's a part of nothingness, spinning 'round the world, see how it exists? Nothingness for too long was thought to be nothing, but, listen sir, this is how it is. You know that crappy job you go to all week? Well, I bet you resent every minute of it. You wake up at the crack of dawn, roll out of bed with a disheveled look, and, with no time to wake up as you run out your door, you join the other fools on the road. Your car eats more gas than you can afford, and those cigarettes you smoke, they run eight bucks a pack. That's another hour's work for you; light another one boy, here's to your health. Another car crash on your way into work, five seconds late and your boss gives you crap. Eight more hours 'til your freedom is won, but by then you're so tired, you just want to crash. After that, there's always something more. Meeting with a friend from past memories that remind you of times that were better spent; now you wish you didn't need a job, and then you wish you didn't need a car, and then you think, 'Maybe I don't want to live.' Hey now man, no need to be drastic. Forget thoughts of death and pick up your pen. That's how the best writing happens, my good friend. When you're down and thinking of the end, and if they don't amount to much, so what? This escape will let you see another day. The pen's need to move is gone for now. It sleeps beside you, waiting for the dawn, while you sleep, waiting for another shitty day. Everything's a part of nothingness, spinning 'round the world, see how it exists? Nothingness for too long was thought to be nothing, but, listen ma'am, this is how it is. Woke up again at the crack of dawn. Go to take a shower, but no hot water. Head out the door five minutes later. Traffic's backed up. Girl on a bike was crushed. Light that cigarette and everything's alright. Fire engine drives by, and you hope it's not your house that's going up in smoke. Passes by your exit and you let out a sigh, but tell me, what on earth gives you that right to assign yourself lordly caliber and live above orders of the golden rule? Tenth time late, but your boss is silent. 'Hell, maybe it will be a decent day.' Eight hours fly by without much resentment, but then it all shatters in a flash. Boss catches up and tells you you're fired; make your way out the door past the worker drones and outside everything seems to be fine. You just shake it off and start up your car. Radio was broken, thoughts dwell in silence, Dwell on thoughts, lose control of the car, accidents happen, it's a part of life. You have to rent a taxi and a tow truck to drive your sorry ass to your house. Pull up to see only burning embers. Firemen still standing there, missed the exit; there was no way they could have saved it. Have the taxi drive you to a motel, 'cause I hear they hand out papers and pens for free. This will all be a memory at dawn. This was just a lesson made to teach you to respect the world as you should respect yourself. Bottom line is this world sucks because everyone has those fucked up kind of days. To keep yourself sane, you just need an escape. Everything's a part of nothingness, spinning 'round the world, see how it exists? Nothingness for too long was thought to be nothing, but, listen up, this is how it is. Everything you once came to know is fucked. Now you have the time to build yourself back up. Question remains, will you have that skill, or will you fall into that rut you held? Will you get lost with the millions of masses, or will you hold a higher purpose? Everyone carve your niche, we're leaving quick. A day is worth less than the blink of an eye when you count up all the world's losses. May seem like your day is the worst of days, but why should you throw away your losing hand when everyday plays host to a deal? Carry on with contentment, loosen up, focus on the worst shit and you'll never win. Everything's a part of nothingness, spinning 'round the world, see how it exists? Nothingness for too long was thought to be nothing, but, listen, this is how it is.

Instrumental

A certain uncertainty makes itself known to me, as questions of purpose come to the surface. With all that's at stake, it's my choice to make a fatal incision or to finish the mission. A certain uncertainty makes itself known to me, as questions of purpose ripple the surface. With all that's at stake It's my choice to make a fatal incision or to finish the mission. Blindly follow, or take the reins it's your choice if you're to blame stake your claim, it's your right, you are one with the light when all hope is gone, you'll destroy who you are maybe then you'll see that to live is to die. You have to want to see the light before you can sit down to find it. Then, after time has taken its toll, it all comes at once when you see the ultimate truth. We all have our own satori, our own reason for being. Shit, you could go Hemingway or Hendrix, but who the fuck would want to go Mama Cass? I'd rather go Bukowski and embrace the madness. "We're all sheep and shepherds" as Socrates would say. Well, I'm fine with being a sheep if I can wander towards the greener pastures. You have to ponder it all and do your own thing because all we know is that existence exists. Stake your claim, it's your right, you are one with the light blindly follow or take the reins. It's your choice if you're to blame.

It's all bullshit. No one understands. I know that I don't. So I guess that I do.

It's a hot day, muggy as hell. I turn to the shelter of the shady trees, overlooking a small pond, reading of the ring and smoking cigarettes. I lost sight of reality and before I knew it, a cop peeled in. A couple of kids had mugged a 60 year old man then pushed him down the hill directly to my right, but, I didn't see it. The cops questioned me, but I had nothing to say so I left. 'There are other woods,' I thought. I found them. Nobody there. I walked alone, down the path, around a lake and into a clearing holding a cemetery as its centerpiece. 'Death? Ha! Too many questions.' I heard the voice of a young girl, and then I heard her scream. 'Paranormal?' I thought. As I stood waiting for more noise, I heard nothing. Walking up the hill, I saw the stone markers standing still and to my right I heard a drunken man muttering with seriousness: 'I've really done it, come here quick!" He was talking on the phone, so I turned, I walked, I heard silence, and I ran. Flying my feet in crazy arcs, running out of breath and in dire need of a cigarette, I slowed and smoked as I continued my walk. Seeing the coils of resin snaking up the white of my stoge, I thought, 'These things are going to kill me.' "Only if the crazies don't do away with you first," I argued. Then, I exhaled laughing, the cigarette was done and I started thinking, 'Shouldn't I be back in the parking lot by now?' I ran again, I ran out of breath again, and I started to sweat I took my shirt off, and the cool breeze felt good. But the bugs came, undoubtedly attracted by my scent. 'At least someone is,' I thought. Then, using my shirt as a horse would use its tail, I swatted at bugs as they came, and it worked. I sat in my car and wrote this piece of shit and I realized, 'They're all crazy, but, then again, So am I, so are we all, Humanity was never meant to seem sane.'

Question humanity. Open your channel. Align with the energy to transform the animal. Floating here patiently. No one to rescue me. I'd wait for eternity. But back to reality. Waiting here restlessly. For someone to rescue me. I'd wait for eternity. But back to reality. This is an S.O.S. This is an S.O.S. This is an S.O.S. Floating here patiently. No one to rescue me. I'd wait for eternity. But back to reality. Waiting here restlessly. For someone to rescue me. I'd wait for eternity. But back to reality. It's hard to accept. But what did I expect? I am nothing. Nothing I am but a bit of nothingness. In infinite omniscience. I am but a bit of nothingness. In infinite omniscience. I am but a bit of nothingness. In infinite omniscience. I am but a bit of nothingness. In infinite omniscience.

It started innocently enough, with the sight of a deer staring me down. Then, it started to twitch, gently at first; then, it looked like a seizure. Then, it stopped, it ran away, and then: "KKKKKSSSSSSHHHHH!!!!!" The sound came in the middle of my writing a piece about famous dead writers. I heard music coming from my radio, but this noise? This noise came from somewhere else. I heard it three times before I turned off the radio, and six or seven times after that. It was something between the sound of a large cat hissing and a man gargling water. It repeated itself with the same pitch, same intensity, and same tempo. It was somewhere to my right, so I looked on as the noise continued. Then, suddenly, the noise stopped. As I kept watch over my right shoulder, something came instantly into view. In the center of my vision, an entity appeared from nothingness. It stood five to six feet tall and was cloaked in pure white. If it was a neck I was seeing, it looked to the left of my view and, without moving its bottom half, it glided to the right, and then to the left. Doing this at the speed of a man jogging, it had no problem moving through the thickly grown patch of trees, bushes, and prickers. A trail of something less solid, but of the same color, followed its every move. It disappeared behind some trees, and I took chase, but to no avail. It wasn't there. But, it was. I know I heard what I heard, and I know I saw what I saw, but I can't put a name to it, and perhaps I shouldn't try. But I have to at least try classifying it as every other being has been classified. I know it wasn't a polar bear, or a giant arctic owl, or a mutated rabbit, So what the fuck was it!?! I found out a week later that the sound links with the paranormal and that white thing has been spotted there before, but maybe only a dozen times or so. The river that flows though the land once held the home of the Narragansetts. They, too, had stories of white beings protecting these woods, called them guardian spirits. They were a sign of purity. So was the sight of a deer. It all lines up to my desire to call this thing a ghost, but, what's in a ghost?

Rise. Realize we all must fall to rise. Align both sides. We all must fall to rise. There was a time when none of this mattered. Now, because of our paradigm, it's too late to survive. We've built this world of polarity, one division at a time. Now, it all must come crashing down, so it can be unified. Rise. Realize we all must fall to rise. Align both sides. We all must fall to rise. There was a time when none of this mattered. Now, because of our paradigm, it's too late to survive.

My eyes are open wide. Am I still blind? Am I insane? Is this a dream? Reality means nothing. Leave this old world behind. Open your third eye. My eyes are open. Why am I still blind? Am I insane? Is this a dream? Reality means nothing. Leave this old world behind. Open your third eye. Am I insane? Is this a dream? Reality means nothing. Leave this old world behind. Open your third eye.

Nothing to think, nothing to write, but the pen needs to move, so I let it. There is rarely a decent product spawned from such efforts, but who the fuck wants a product? Too many products and not enough money. No matter your circumstance, few appreciate what they have. Thus, the story of the bum, of the writer, of the musician, of the politician, of the millionaire, of the billionaire, nobody's satisfied. You can't just say, "get rid of it" though, cause the greed provides jobs. It keeps the status quo, but who the fuck wants a "status quo"? You've just got to deal with it; release the tension. Whether or not you want it, it will exist. Money, drugs, religion, murder; everybody's got to think that they have power, until they realize that power is nothing more than a word, and words are meaningless once we've found our graves, and worth less before. They're more fun to play with than to hide behind, so maybe this will bring me closer to greatness, but who the fuck wants greatness? If money is what dictates success, then I don't seek success, but if success is what you make of it, and everyone's making their own, then things are going as they should, but who the fuck wants that? You've got to live according to your own mind, regardless as to whether it agrees. But first you have to find your thoughts, and that takes time, but who the fuck has time? Truth is, time is all we have, but we're too busy giving it to careers, millionaires, billionaires, wars, taxes, gas, and all the other bullshit they say we don't need to worry about. It's for the best of society they say, but who the fuck wants society? When we finally catch up with their standards, there's something new to throw money at. Technology moves too fast. The human mind moves too fast. I don't. They see it as a problem, that I'm not up to par with their idea of style, but who the fuck wants style? Religion is the opiate of the common man, led down the path with blind faith, believing that some greater being is watching their back, protecting them from physical harm. But they still die. It's inevitable, and still, they hide behind faith, but who the fuck wants faith? Some of them react like some sort of alpha-male, running around with their diamond-studded guns. Hitler was one, Napoleon, too, Bush and 50-Cent. They all share that one common idea that contentment is brought through conquest, but who the fuck wants conquest? Yet it's carried to the streets, and these men become idols that spawn the continuation of thought. Passing ideas from one leader to the next, they say it creates structure, but who the fuck wants structure? We create it with our taxes. We paid the bill, but we're still in debt, and without a way out. So how do they fix it? Create more taxes, and raise the ones they already had. That's my money, motherfucker, but who the fuck wants money? Truth is, I could go on, the pen could continue to dance, but I'd run out of ink before I'd run out of disbelief and it would seem long-winded to continue my rant, so I'll leave you with one question: who the fuck's been listening?

Oh lord, why bring me to my knees? When I'd serve myself better standing. I'd rather come through doing as I do than serving as a model man. I agree with the words of Jesus but not with the Christians, and I agree with the ways of Siddhartha but not with the Buddhists. I agree with philosophical beliefs but not with Nietzsche, not with Sartre, not with Descartes, and not with Hesse. Everyone spins their own world; we're all existential by nature. Disagreements are a part of life; they were meant to happen, so I do agree with Nietzsche. We see the world in our own way, and, to some, outside materials make up for misunderstood bliss. Those people turn my stomach nauseous, those people are hell, so I do agree with Sartre. I find more meaning in this ten-cent pen than anyone can find through riches. The money's always there, but it's never attached, and I can't expect it to always be there. I can, however, count on my thoughts, so I do agree with Descartes. As much as I've grown discontent with man, I've grown a madness within myself. And I can't stand people exactly like me, so I do agree with Hesse. I can't see dogmatic belief as a plus, but if I do have to claim belief, well, alright. The lord is in our mind. No need to kneel, no need to confess to something we don't know exists outside constantly expanding minds. We all must open our own door because, to everyone, there is a wall.

The thoughts always come faster than the words. In fact, once a thought is there, It's always there. It's always questioned. (the constant progression) Some see life in this way, but they're far and few between. When you find them, though, you find hope but hopes were made to be dashed. So you lose confidence in the common man and make yourself an unjustified legend. You go out with your ideas already set, but your hopes are crushed again. You come to your own conclusions, contradicting the ones you had before. The thoughts always come faster than the words. By the time words are ready for form, the thoughts have backed up, And it's hard to handle. All you can do is form your own meaning. A man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest. It's the way of things. To find yourself, you can't follow the carpenter, the shepherd, or the prince, unless that's what you happen to be. So my words don't get taken offensively, please understand that I'm not trying to preach. I'm just spreading the words of my savior, myself, my mind. It's so hard for some to break the habit. Lessons taught for thousands of years seem so logical to believe. After all, 10 million Jesus freaks can't be wrong. But it's all up to speculation and interpretation, so everyone's busy thinking their own thing, but seeing structure makes it hard to see individuality. Everyone's searching for their golden path, leading to their city of gold. But such things don't exist. And some spend too much time searching for their golden life that they can't see the pyrite; sure, a little less pricey, and a little uglier, but well worth the search. Plus, by the end, their head won't be stuck up their ass. But there's more to itä I wonder if the first men saw the shiny shit and said "Oooooh." Sure, it was pretty, but a chicken must have held more value; all those eggs and a meal near the end of its life, what a wonderful life that must have been. Why don't we take a step back before we see it all crumble before us? It's going to happen. I'm not sure how, and I'm not sure when, but it's going to happen. And it's going to have happened because of us, the human race. We fucked up. Why do you think a monkey still shits in the forest? Because they're smarter than us. They can survive without our tools and look at us as if we were assholes and do it with true confidence. Keep your thoughts but accept new ideas, accept changes. It's all going as planned. Both the calendars of the Mayans and Egyptians have us down and out in 2012. Funny thing is, Nostradamus stopped his prophecies at around the same time, and the Bible Code would agree. And we're all bringing it closer with our modern conveniences without second-guessing our actions. I can't stand it. I can't see how you could. Stop feeding the fire, or you're going to get burned. That's it, enough said. There's still time left. Don't give up yet. There's still time left. Don't give up yet. There's still time left. Don't give up yet. There's still time left. Don't give up yet. There's still time left.