A Fish Out The Water.
This is a lie! Learn to die, waiting for an apex at the station
Walking past the crimson train wrecks that don't phase him
Impatient, a child on his swingset, pumping to the beat of a clock
His hearts beating, with speed, and he believes it won't stop
He is a breed that was lost - to everyone who climbed over the hill
ones that know life won't last forever crying for those hoping it will
Arrogant, unreal. His clock ticking so slowly, so personally
A standard son - never thinking, tinkering only with urgent schemes
Swimming in perjury, bad choices, but all with a life jacket
Always that hard kid that would start shit when a fight happened
He might relax then, satisfied with whatever bruises he had formed
Relaxed when he failed English and got exclusion from math work
A bastard, a whore mother, a dead brother, and a pysched dad
Taking pills for the panic attacks he claimed he might have
Never taking the right path, taking the back alley to Tony's squalor
Following his "prophet friends" whose hearts broke and faltered
Hopes were altered, each day from "I pray I don't facelessly fade"
To "I hope I make it through today and don't take to this blade"
These kids were brazenly made - bad to the bone and then some
Facing problems ignored. alone when with tension
In this frozen dimension. That he would wish to prosper
He thinks time will never end. Till he grows up. A fish out of water
-
A grown man, alone. Forsaken of home.
he can't breathe and he's fading, it shows
Erased from the zone. No one knows him. He doesn't rest
Slowly moaning in his abode as he is courting death
A sword of stress, cutting through him, the blade the past
Half an eternity of wrong paths, suprised he made it last
Breaking fast, he wished he was young agin, wishing for lost turns
Turns in the path of life - he's a fish out of water
He cried again, that night, out of his
enviroment for the fortieth year, ex-
isting in his little squalor that flowed
in his blood. His only secluded plane.
He wasn't ready for reality. He didnt
plan for this extreme existance that
he mocked before. A fish out of wa-
ter. Alone, on a beach of sharpened
blades and razorwire. A beach called
Real Life.
- s o u l
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