let's be honest, we're liars

Let's be honest, we're liars.
We're off setting fires on doorsteps.
But what valor we lack,
we make up for in tact...we adore it
When you fall for these verses,
They're all voodoo curses we're casting.
Yeah, cause we've got your number,
The spell you've been under, it's tragedy

Nostalgia leaves a sweet taste in your mouth.
And only sweet naivety can wash it out.

So if i speak of sadness,
Make mention of madness, believe me.
If I wax poetic,
Come back copasetic....you need me
To unravel the clues
That you're traveling through, just to find me.
Cause I'm hidden deep,
Yeah, I'm Mr. Mystique...by design, see?

Nostalgia leaves a sweet taste in your mouth.
And only sweet naivety can wash it out.

I'm completely capable of emulating apical
celebrities with expertise, if that's what you prefer from me.
I'm absolutely underspoken, call it tact, a graceful broken
English air, so debonair...with eloquence and charm to spare....

Cause I know what you want from me.
And I don't care to disagree.

Nostalgia leaves a sweet taste in your mouth.
And only sweet naivety can wash it out.

There, There

There, there my friend
Don't fret the end is near.
We've been waiting our whole damn lives
Just to get right here.

There, there my dear
It's desperate here indeed.
If you can hear my voice
It's the only noise you'll need

So say it...and say it like you mean it.
Because we have cast away what we believed in.
From silence, I sing out

There, there my love
Somewhere above we'll meet.
Though we're on different planes,
It's the same sad sky beneath our feet

So say it...and say it like you mean it.
Because we have cast away what we believed in.
From silence, I sing out

Black Tie Affair

It was a black tie affair. He arrived, he prepared,
With a double-Windsor tourniquet.
And with a rise in his arm, and with rice in his hair,
Another tumbled, turned, and went….turned and went

It was a white dress occasion. And with a white-washed stare,
She remembers sins more innocent.
With no reservations, lilies pinned in her hair
She upends her precious Percoset... she turned and went

Father! Father, I forbid.
What dishonor! I beg:
Are there any here among thee?
Father, Father, don’t forget:
Cast upon her my regrets.
Have you not an ear for honesty?
Father, Father, I dissent!

Put a cross on your forehead, font full of kerosene...
Young maiden and the match in hand.
Now the doves unstirred, and the belfry is hushed
As cities burn, it’s ash to ash
Under October rain, are we not entertained?
By the panic parade after that
(oh God) the aftermath, and ash to ash
(oh God) the aftermath!

Father! Father, I forbid.
What dishonor! I beg:
Are there any here among thee?
Father, Father, don’t forget:
Cast upon her my regrets.
Have you not an ear for honesty?
Father, Father, I dissent!

twenty-five

Another year has climbed onto my back.
That makes twenty-five that I must drag.
A caravan of muses and mistakes,
The company of which I can’t shake.

Another year has slipped between my hands.
It activates the quick beneath my sand,
Cauterizing every step I take.
It's made a map of the mess left in my wake.

Another year has crawled into my bed,
With plans to steal what dreams I have left.
Demanding restitution for my deeds,
An unrelenting ransom for my sleep.

Another year is placed upon the shelf.
Dog-eared pages penned by someone else.
Scrutinized at first, each idle line.
Now dust and sunburn stains tattoo the spine.

-

I should have listened when I had the chance.
I've been busy trying to paint the past.
But you can never hesitate to crash...
and learn.

I should have lived and let it come to pass.
I could've cried but I just had to laugh.
What is life but not a lonely match...
to burn?

kevlar heart

It’s made of Kevlar, my heart
So you can take your best shot
Cast-iron lungs for screaming
These words are tempered teeming out
This tongue is tungsten fire
A picture perfect liar

We fight, we fall
But we don’t feel a thing at all

Emptiness to an art
Wicked hearts are unbreakable
(and we can’t be crossed)
Emptiness to an art
Wicked hearts are unbreakable
(when we’ve won, we’ve lost)

Your fingers—poison ivy
Just one more touch and I’ll be dead
Your skin is quilted quicksand
With every step we’re sinking in
You’re crying kerosene
Your arson tears careening down
With eyes of iron oxide
They’re rusting from the inside out

We fight, we fall
But we don’t feel a thing at all

Emptiness to an art
Wicked hearts are unbreakable
(and we can’t be crossed)
Emptiness to an art
Wicked hearts are unbreakable
(when we’ve won, we’ve lost)

Armored, I pin paper hearts to my sleeve
Your assails can’t pick apart chain maille underneath

Emptiness to an art
Wicked hearts are unbreakable
(and we can’t be crossed)
Emptiness to an art
Wicked hearts are unbreakable
(when we’ve won, we’ve lost)