False on the dotcom

Preaching this is false all the way to the dot com
Gift of the word
Give you a piece of the world sneaky me
Leave a little shit stain on your technology\

Saying the eye is false and denying sight
It wasn't here dressed as your mayor screaming I am the way, the light
It is not full of codes for your machines to decipher
It is not a self help guide to better way of life

Villains of the eye you may not forge style
you may not rewrite my words and authentically beguile

False poet they say

No sponsor, they're screaming it's not real
That my salt is a sugar coated deal
I have lines of unfathomed meaning you claim are happy meals
HINT no standard applicable especially for saps less feel

The lines don't lie, though read these unwind
false is it's business, not mine
Those are ripened accusations soaking damnation
Those are the corruption helmets covering inactive brains

Take a sip be popular in the poison room, train your blasé
burst a bubble or two, take a bite
Pretend my name's death were to be tonight
Poetry all I know they say my false outsight
outright, go and say everything I write is cheap prose though...

Words, they're my friends they've always been there but never to pretend
Yes gathering together to console me
When the world outside screams charlatan
I touch my chin almost troubled many compete to hide their lies
and all the while insist on exposing mine

Well there's a fair few myths and steamed stories to read
but they are what they were written for, fiction from seed
 and if that's not your beach rich you'll get nothing from me.

Further into the universe

The tenseness fell down
The eyelids bring gifts
Goodness knows there's space
First the rings of the future turn up

Then the guitar appears
The great living space cools off
because night and forgiveness could be
The guitar is here

You reach out to play that
Stars are out there
You strum above the black hole
The cords of galaxies relieve your overactive brain

There's music out there
further into the universe

The problem is the answer

Silence hid behind the door and revealed itself more and more
Does the rhythm of life need a meaning?
How much are rules worth by themselves?
Should our quest be for a clause that claims to hold the essence of life

So many millions beautifully lost
Carried by rumor media and ego
Not a trim of truth, and the lie is a handshake and a pouch of narcotics
The escape is such a farce, flickers of being further inside than outside, shock the user

The devil licks the hands of time
As if the norns were on his tongue
The problem is the answer try to build a machine
One that replaces the conscience in world where the farce is mean

You may enjoy the good life the taste and the feel
You turn semi sincere, tears run off cheeks and you face a conclusion
A piece of the world disappears you take a step away from god
Remind me, not to judge those who judge with so much salt in their glands

So much venom hast thou grown scales?
doth thou blood flow cold?
Repeat the magic words of your order
The strong symbol of a death device

Give it a name
The answer doesn't shave evil from hair
doesn't anoint tired, jaded bodies trembling
He says be, be. God lives, god lives but understanding dies

Driven to the reflection wetland

Parties go in grey
Parties with chimneys
Food, hope and hoopla
I was given a ride through the overgrown outskirts

we hit the hill the ghost dropped me off there
cloudy humid afternoon
He went home somewhere a few streets from heaven
I wandered past the darkening mirror like lagoons

Over the wet grass
Without food in my stomach or expectation in my heart
or hoopla in my step or chi
Empty as the road I'd been left on

In these wetlands I would be faced with every defect
Yes the place itself was a dim teacher
the thick grey cloud and large expanses of dark water
Completely no emotion a statue walking

And I look out at the water as if eyes had no meaning or purpose
And I attempt to describe the street behind my eyes
Small nostalgias are crushed on this road to nowhere
Sentimental fantasies drown out there in those mirror like waters

They drown and wail like the wind was alive
but today there is no wind
The soul searches for a feeling to know it still exists
Though neutral stays the mood

Here in this wetland I am the drop of water
The drop that will with the sky's touch discolor the mirror lakes
and purpose found, the mouth will smile.
The tear of joy will run and the soul will keep walking through these wetlands

Invisible but alive

Test the window, When I no longer thee judge

Yes early here we are as lord and serf like way back
And down you come with the hammer
bang it on the window to see if it cracks
Oh you banged those shards well and not one cracked sire

Oh now must you bang them some more just to make sure?
And then the first crack lo and behold shamelessly showed itself
How could it do that? Now we'll have to replace them all fine sir
So excuse the bed ridden and excuse the countless errs

Looks like the eyes have chosen specifics to perfect
Leaving the cluster fuck a muck majesty
Forcing brooms into busy hands
and giving those idle ones comfort they demand

And there's only one thing worse that shouldn't be given encouragement
and that you noble man is my dim judgement

Lonely mansion dweller

O he cast his ceaseless gaze on the young below
Pretends to read the paper and goes back to his hearts focus
For in no other place in the body than the heart can a sick child hide
without reprimand from the mind

The Windows are cleaned daily
Housemaids would notice his eyes, so he kept them on the streets
everyday he looks down through the park eyes scanning the green for sunbathers
He sits window side all day and night watching

Soon the windows to the mansion became eyes
and the neighborhood knew it
The man was no longer human just a freakish voyeur
And the Mansion was the tower looking down on the town

In the shade from inside his mansion he would observe the world
Like an alien from a U.F.O
Like a sick child from a hospital window
Lipreading, following, predicting, willing, curiously desiring to be down there.