I hit the ground and I’m still running but I need a place to stay tonight,
I swear I’ll be gone in the morning I just need somewhere now

I can’t bear the thought of losing,
I dread the attention winning brings
and ever since the day I came here
I can stand without your strings
I’m so sick of all these people
but I’m scared to be alone
and if this life has taught me anything
I forgot it long ago

And so I hit the ground and I’m still running but I need a place to stay tonight,
I swear I’ll be gone in the morning I just need somewhere warm to close my eyes
Hit the ground and I’m still running but I need a place to stay tonight,
I swear I’ll be gone in the morning I just need somewhere warm to close my eyes

The heart is something you can’t control
We either choose to follow or be left on our own
So we’re leaving here on a less-travelled road
As desperate cries grow louder, I know we’re getting close, getting close

And so I hit the ground and I’m still running but I need a place to stay tonight,
I swear I’ll be gone in the morning I just need somewhere warm to close my eyes
Hit the ground and I’m still running but I need a place to stay tonight,
I swear I’ll be gone in the morning I just need somewhere warm to close my eyes

And if strength is born from heartbreak
Then mountains I could move
And if these walls could speak
I’d pray that they would tell me what to do

So if you see me please just walk on by
Walk on by
Forget my name and I’ll forget it too
Failed attempts at living simple lives
Simple lives
Always keep me coming back to you

No signs of life here save the embers
The occaisonal flame
We know the way but can’t remember
Conception to the grave
Shout confessions from the greatest heights
Where no one can hear
All my fears my insecurities
Are falling like tears

So if you see me please just walk on by
Walk on by
Forget my name and I’ll forget it too
Failed attempts at living simple lives
Simple lives
Always keep me coming back to you

The drones all slave away
They’re working overtime
They serve a faceless creed
They never question why
Disciples of a Ghost, a King that neither lives or breathes
But we’ve got bills to pay
We’ve got mouths to feed
I won’t come back!

Sad voices they’re calling
Our precious girl she can’t be gone
How bitter this morning
When daddy’s darling
Went out and started her day

Wasn’t there a dream last night
Like a spring never ending
Still the water runs clear
Through my mind
On the field I can see a fiddler
The fiddler on the green and the sad boy
I took him too early
Would you mind?
Would you mind?
Would you mind?
If I take you

To be with you (repeat x4)

The sun seemed bright
The air was clear
The air was clear
A trick of light
Turned red into green
She saw the light
Her face was pale
Her body smashed
Her beauty’s gone
Isn’t a shame
The reaper said
He is quite alone here
And still waiting for you
Oh I really did fail for the first time
Spoke the fiddler, poor old fiddler
The fiddler on the green
The fiddler on the green
It would be nice…

Take my hand

Just hold my hand
I’ll take you there
Your pain will go away

In all truth, the speaker here is Death. It says so. The interesting part is that he is speaking to a member of his club, or namely, a dead person. He is speaking to a young girl about a young boy. Here’s the interesting part: though this is indeed a fanciful song, it is wrapped around a rather peculiar story. Apparently, the song writer (Hansi Kursch) witnessed an automobile accident involving the fatality of a young boy. Some twenty years later, he witnessed another accident in the same intersection that involved a young woman at a cross-walk. It apparently sent him to thinking that earlier, with the boy, Death had made a mistake and took the young boy before he was supposed to. Because of this, instead of an afterlife of peace, the boy was experiencing one of loneliness for he was supposed to find his love, the young girl and be with her in the afterlife. So Death attempts to rectify the mistake and kills the girl in the same place. Giving her the choice between a painful life of disfiguration or a senseless existence in the beyond with someone she’s never met, Death solves his only failure.

A young man walks out, possibly between twenty and thirty. and, like most of the citizens here, he wears a dark woolen overcoat to his knees. The cold here never leaves. It hasn’t been a true spring in over 17 years and the sun hasn’t really shown its face in over 5 years. and yet, like most of the people here, he doesn’t seem to care. He’s tallish for a young man, and well kept. His should length black hair floats about in the wind that also continually seems to breeze through. It is not a cleaning wind, bringing the smell of soot and alchemy to everyone’s nostrils. Thankfully, the wind seems to carry itself with the same ennui as the populace, and this man is no exception.

He has just left a party in which the young people habitually throw to shake off their shackles of unspeakable depression that threatens to drown each and every one. Others will soon leave for their own reason, but his is unique. He was a holy man once, believing fervently in the doctrine. and then one day the sun never came back. It was a crisis of faith that no ounce of him has ever recovered from. It was not that he worshiped he sun, but he always felt a connection to it. Because of his religious training, he was a fairly intelligent man. He, like everyone else, had seen so many signs. Everyone knew it, and they all behaved differently about it. Some became more pious, others (like him) less so. Most tried not to think about it and by not thinking about it it crushed them slowly to death under its weight. There was no escaping.

The world was ending, and everyone knew it. Most became desperate. Acts of violence and all manner of human evil had manifested itself. The human race had became numb to its own suffering, and thus continued to perpetuate the act. He was lucky his car was still intact when he reached it.

Getting it and sitting down, he looked at the clock on the dashboard. 4:37. AM or PM? He looked at the sky and decided it really didn’t matter.

Chamber the Cartridge

Down beyond these city streets through gutters filled with black debris
In alleys void of any light where nameless things live out sight
Down through the scrapers of the sky past neon words glowing all night
Echoes my name between each car, “Are you happy where you are?”

Blind to this impending fate
We let the world carry our weight
Its back breaks with every mile
But we all live in denial

Can we be saved? Has the damage all been done?
Is it too late to reverse what we’ve become?
A lesson to learn at a crucial point in time
What’s mine was always yours and yours is mine

Let’s go!

And so we carry on each day as if our lives are not so gray
While every breath we take we only suffocate
Brush past a myriad of scenes – a homeless vet crashed
On wall street, a single mom of three, a TV personality

Save us from what we have become tonight
Eyes glazed with distrust, no sense of wrong or right

Can we be saved? Has the damage all been done?
Is it too late to reverse what we’ve become?
A lesson to learn at a crucial point in time
What’s mine was always yours and yours is mine

He gets in the car and drives home.

As you lie silently beside me choking back your tears
I wonder if you recognize
That silence now defines us
Desperately I try to fight this overwhelming sense
That I may never find
The strength to change
How hopeless we’ve become
We need to find a way to break this silence
We need to find a way to break this silence that’s between us
So I scream your name

But every time that I touch you
You feel so far away
And every time that you need me
I feel so far away
And every time that you reach out
You feel me pull away
And every time that I touch you, I touch you, I touch you
You feel so far away

true dreams of fiction
pure rush and adrenal addiction
but now I fear
that the magic was killed by corruption

I wanna feel like that again
I wanna be a hero all over again
You’re on my side or in my way
I’ll blast you all to nothing anyway

Another day, another trial
another month of this endless denial
cause now I sense

I wanna be unbound by science
one world, under me
somewhere undirected and free
one place, unseen
uncorrupted creativity

I wanna feel like that again
I wanna be a hero all over again
You’re on my side or in my way
I’ll blast you all to kingdom come

An all to ordinary story
With aftertaste so bitter
Forced to be someone I don’t want to be
I’m losing myself. sinking deeper down
I’m caught in the world wound web

A time represented by the void
An excuse without content
Stuck in the abyss of existence
With a content void of excuse

An all to ordinary story
This is my story
With an aftertaste so bitter

Sinking deeper down
I’m caught – I’m cage
I’m gone

I lack from superhighway thoughts
Won’t live as long as the city lights
Soaked by underwater times
Electric splash on a midnight drive

Wish I could rape the day,
just something radical
Lost the sense of sweet things
Who’s gonna take me widely?

Guided by the pinball map
The driver, still unknown to me
Who was sent to glorify?
Before we injected this common pride

Sometimes I don’t belong
Release me from your world
Pacified by the small things in life
I wait for earthquakes to rearrange

Never been able to use the force
I only have it read to me
Despite all the misguided faith
(Maybe) I’ll find a place in this mess

Early morning moments
A glimpse of joy
But soon it’s over and I return to dust
As I try to be
Everything and everyone
I shrivel up and waste away

Do you see me? Do you hear me?
What have I done to you?
Why are you destroying me?
Do you feel me? Do you notice me?
If you don’t love me anymore
Why are you touching me?
Do you need me?
Say, don’t you believe that it is better
You live your life without me
Do you recognize me? Dont you understand?
Why are you here at all?
What do you want from me?

Eyes open
Who sees, understands
How mercilessly time passes
How the hand turns
Continuously
It never stands still

You don’t know what you want
You don’t know where you stand
Don’t know where you come from
Or where you are going
You don’t know what is driving you
Or what remains for you at the end
Why are you so pale, so cold, so heartless
You don’t know what you’re doing
Or what you believe in
Tell me why and whether you still need me
If it simply doesn’t fit anymore
If you really still only hate me
Why are you still here

What for
What do you still want from me?
What do you still want?
Do you see me?
Do you recognize me?
There’s still space for you
Deep down in my heart
I am searching for you
I am longing
For what I have loved
Yet I don’t find it

Eyes open
Who sees, understands
How mercilessly time passes
How the hand turns
Continously
It never stands still
Much too long, much too late
Storm reaped, wind sown
Time passes continously, it never stands still

Are you a human being? Are you one of Aristotle’s rational animals? Or are you some sort of bizarre hybrid between adult man and diaper wearing toddler? I don’t think this is an abnormal question, that being your difference between infant and adult. For instance, you espy a magazine that engrosses your attention. You then begin to commit the sins of magazine purchasing.

Sin 1. You stand, exactly where you picked up the magazine, and begin to thumb through it idly. You read articles until they force you to pay attention, or are broken up between pages. This is a sin because you are in everyone’s way when you peruse in this manner. It is a subset of this sin to read the entire magazine while standing. This defeats the point of buying the magazine and makes you look stupid.

Sin 2. You laugh out loud at articles that you find funny. If you catch yourself doing this, please buy the magazine and go home. There is no good reason to guffaw in public over the amusing celebrity caricture in MAD. Also, MAD is officially no longer funny. Just to give you a heads up.

Sin 3. Exclaiming to your friends over what recent scandal your favorite / hated celebrity has caused is embarrasing. Not just to you, but to society in general. If you are such a failure of a human being that you find the antics of people who don’t care that you exist and with whom you will never have any sort of meaningful reaction, then you should do the only sensible thing and remove all of your sensory organs. Starting with your skin.

Sin 4. If a magazine is wrapped in plastic – for whatever reason – THEN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD KEEP IT THAT WAY. I don’t give a bleeding fuck if there is the secret to immor-god damn-tality in there. If you have any decency in you, you will keep your sweaty paws from tearing open that plastic. This goes double for you guys out there. It has absolutely no relevance how much you want to see Tera Patrick’s plastic bone-sheath OR Vida Guerrara’s rear-end ham sacks. IF YOU OPEN THE PSUEDO-PORN THEN YOU SHOULD BUY THE PSEUDO PORN. THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is the fundamental principle of why they come wrapped like that. To reward those who have faith in their product (Whether it be the February issue of Black Ass Magazine or Old Women with Too Many Cats Crosstitching Weekly) enough to shell out the 5.99 to buy it. That’s how it works folks. You shell out the dough, you get the rewards. I’m not even going to start on people who take the free DVD’s that come in computer magazines these days. Bottom line – You tear that plastic, I hope you burn.

Sin 4. Say, by some twist of fate, you perform Sin 1, yet you take the magazine elsewhere. Do not just put it down when you’re done. I would most assuredly hope you don’t do that with everything that takes your fancy, do you? “Hmm, I’m done with this sandwich I’m just going to put it here, on this kids’ head.” Does that seem right to you? Or maybe you just think the magical mystical newstand fairy will whisk your insipid little Eurotuner magazine back to its rightful place like some lost Russian heir? Well you know what, it does. The magical newstand fairy DOES whisk your insipid magazine back to its right place. And everytime that happens, the fairy takes a price. Its pound of flesh, if you will. Every time the newstand fae has to perform this base, meaningless task, a hundred infants are sacrificed by suffocating them with puppies. Live puppies. Think about that.

Sin 5. There really isn’t too much more I should have to tell a grown person about this, so here goes: If. You. Take. A. Magazine. And. Don’t. Buy. It. You. Will. Put. It. Back. Where. It. Goes. Anything else is to tell the world you are lazy and inconsiderate.

Sin 6. Do not be upset when we do not carry your magazine. Scientists, through years of experience and testing have finally concluded that the sun, and not you (as was previously thought) is the center of the galaxy. How’s that? What’ll those wacky scientists come up with next?

Sin 7. This, as numerology will state, is the number of completion. And I think that it has a deep correlation with everything else in this list of woes. It sounds simple: Buy your magazine. So very simple. And yet, day by day, humanity as a whole refuses. I have tried several times to end this article on a funny and irate note, but every time I get to this sin, I die a little inside because I know, right now, as I type this, people are doing all of the above. Just buy it if it interests you, people. I beseech you – Buy Them. Buy them so I don’t have to kill again.