Caught in this net of time,
the restless nights create a paradoxical paradigm.

Caught in this head of mine,
chasing after false hope that imitates the divine.

Caught in this reality of ours,
staring at the stars until we snap back into the lonely bar's guitars.

Living in a world with no honest leader.
Every single day comes a new victor,
using the people's heart to paint the picture of fear.

When will we escape the rampant greed running amuck?
Become our own leaders and stop giving a ****.

When asked questions like these, the defenders only have a mouthful.
The reins of power should be in the hands of the masses,
known as the powerful.

They shake at night with terrors of their past.
They finally understand they have worn a fake mask.

When will we stop eating from a government feeder?
Finally equalize and balance the power teeter.
We must, living in a world with no honest leader.

A wide and expanding world dilate our technology,
revolutionary thoughts and conflict initiate an evolving psychology.

Simplicity in life no longer here as we form double personalities nearly on in the same, as we all have an assumed second name.

Simplicity in life sacrificed for evolution and integrated minds, or is this just the plan of humankind's masterminds?

We forget the health and happiness of past struggle, as todays anxious, depressed, and integrated minds smuggle in double trouble.

Steady pounding upon the bronze sides of hordes of men's helms,
only to realize the impenetrable god's gold is the fate of another realm.

Reincarnation, heaven and hell, 70 virgins, and many more voodoos fritter among as distraction, constructed to insurpassably shadow this pain.

Will the truth be revealed as a nonsensical stalemate?

Can we finally graduate to a more evolved interstate, and gravitate to the knowledge we accumulate over life's days.

28 strings hanging from above, teetering and creaking with each of my steps.

The wood below feels as if sand seeps into my skin, making the next heavier, and heavier.

When did the world decide to become so clever?

The marionette is unnamed although the disease is written clearly across the fogged bathroom mirror.

I avert my eyes from the truth as though I could never decipher.

A slap to the face and a fluid ounce of love is all it took,
two floating hands to fix my gaze upon all I could, my own life book.

I suddenly could hear the willows whipping and dripping wet in the rain outside the brook, I was no longer deaf to the pain I caused and took.

The mental games we play are never far from the outsides the lines of our life's coloring book.

Climb to the tallest line of the page with your grappling hook.

It only takes one outside and unbiased look and the keys to the castle are unhooked.

Cramped, lost, and crying in my own exhausted body,
tired of spending all my money like I'm overly gaudy.

Short is this pain but long is the ornament,
until I see the path to winning this life-long tournament.

No longer numb am I, yet still caught in a gasp.
New knowledge instilled that ferociously connected the dots, and at long last filled in the gaps.

Cramped, lost, and crying in my own worn out body,
with loss of hope to become somebody.

Short is this vivid pain,
too long is this bright ornament,
until I finally see the point of it.

No longer numb yet still caught in a gasp,
until I finally connect the dots and filled in the gaps.