From the Outside

It’s self preservation at it’s worst
Only giving out just enough of yourself to hint at connection
Giving into fear, pain
All in an attempt to avoid pain & fear

Never giving all
Always alone

It’s a search for happiness
Even contentment would suffice
Nothing is ever what is sought
an ongoing struggle against yourself.

You have what others seek
You seek what others have
It’s not enough for them
It won’t be enough for you

The wall never falls
It’s been up so long, you don’t know what’s inside
To chip away at it is to chip away at everything you know
Instead you muse, philosophy
Relate to music, poetry, lyric more than anyone, anything

You stop writing
blaming a creative slump
In truth, it’s a fear of self discovery
You touch at it
Hint at growth & awareness
Until it gets too real

That which you honestly seek, will never be until you let go
the rain starts off and it wakes you up
you can’t sleep with that racket on the roof
you get up slow but you can’t get going
it seems this morning the lowness has won
did you stop to see? mediocrity and your self pity,
they were stealing a kiss, look at their lips, still shiny
did you notice that happiness
happens less the more often you stop to find where it’s been hiding
you say, “it’s not my fault that i get so low
there’s a weight on my soul that just keeps pulling me down,
it’s pulling me down, i swear it”

so come on by my house and unleash me your monsters
with you at the helm we’ll go crashing around together
don’t mistake some initial hate for something more that cautionary
cause baby this is love, i’ll come down to hell to keep you company

of all the days we’ve got we should be screaming out…
of all the days we’ve got we should be singing…

what’s to be done? one hundred and one
in a tent for twelve with fingers and elbows
in innocent ribs, we’re minding our business
we’re just minding our business instead of minding our minds
in times when the storms could ravage your clothes,
the sound and the color could render you blind
and the throes of a nightmare can sing you to sleep
then some foreign machine wakes you up at a mean hour
but heaven is there, under your hair,
it hides in the noon noise way up in the air
like a bird on the breeze
waiting for you and maybe me too

whats there to do? one hundred and two
are out on the doorstep and they’re pushing the bolts back
they’re wanting in, they’re humming our hymn
everybodys singing like beautiful birds…
everybodys singing like beautiful birds…
everybodys singing like beautiful birds…
in the trees, listen to it, it’s easy man, you can do it too
sing: i know what i want
i know what i need
cause it’s the simplest thing

of all the nights we’ve got we should be stepping out…
of all the nights we touch we should be swinging around from house to house

if i could cheer you up it would mean so much,
clowns in love and laughing it off, laughing it off, laughing it off
you say, “its not my fault that i get so low
but to drown you too, that’s a sick way to love, it’s a sick way to love,
it’s a fucking sick way to love”