Flowers of Babel

You tried to be a part of evolutionary progress
denying that it's just a reactionary process.
Building better versions of a more perfect you,
wishing that the demons couldn't keep on coming through.

But you're still the same disgusting mass of sins & effigies
stealing will from addicts and self-esteem from refugees.
The hatred still sticks right to you in places you brought love,
the apathy & anger fitting like a nice, warm glove.

The voices you emit shed not light for all to see,
the echoes & the ripples breaking down what made them free.
You scream at these realizations, knowing there's little time left for you to hate her.
There's just enough to recall this, forget the freak, you're just nature.*

Stone Sour, "Omega" ('Stone Sour', 2002)

Carnivorous Decisions

I speak to you in times of regret
but all you want is someone to come pay your debts.
The mechanical changes take place without force
but my brain & my body have entered divorce.

These confessions of mine should relieve all the pain
but they still do nothing to treat the stain.
The breaking of bones meets the mending of fences
but you are unwise to lower your defenses.

Wings of tattered veins reach out to envelop
but they will refuse to let you develop.
The scorching of skin is a sure vital sign
but the anguish comes from intelligent design.

I'm leaving this earth broken & marred
but you will be the one wearing my scars.
The jaws of the maker could swallow us whole
but I will not die without taking your soul.

This, Too, Shall Pass

These broken flowers fall from the stones upon which they were laid.
These broken people return to the one that had them made.
These broken letters fail to reach the inhabitants of the tomb.
These broken souls come screaming once again from the womb.

These little tendencies claiming the addict and his hands.
These little words are feelings, thoughts, emotions he withstands.
These little shakes, they make him focus on what he had left behind.
These little bites, they take his energy when he needs his teeth to grind.

These ended wars leave the dead in their wake.
These ended tours become distorted and fake.
These ended lives settle down on the shore.
These ended scenes leave us begging for more.

A Fever Persists

Mapped by SlipKnoT's "The Blister Exists", Volume 3: The Subliminal Verses (2004)

Taking whatever for the necessary funds.
Absorbing, archaic, like a sponge.*
Swallowing down & choking them out.
Pounding out every single inch of doubt.

Raping gray matter from within its walls.
Chewing the debris of every scrap that falls.
Killing the cells one fiber at a time.
Listing the temptations leading to the crime.

Let it fade, let it go dry.
Distinguish life from death by watching blood fly and stain it all.
Destroy my needs and all I've built.
Just kill me slowly enough that I can see what I'm leaving behind.

Always in Surveillance

And she walked there with a purpose
full of vinegar, piss and myopic as hell.
And she stood there justifying
the beautiful, fragile empty shell.

And she moved on daily, never ceasing
to forget what she was always forced to learn.
But she stayed there, still retreating
knowing at some point it would all have to burn.

And she lingered in the senses & nostrils
of all those she passed by each day.
But she never had a clue how lucky they felt
when they saw her coming their way.

Heaven Isn't Far Enough

for Uncle Mark Macken (10/2/61--10/25/08), Rest in Peace


It's a shame to believe you could see me that day.
It's a shame to imagine you could see me this way.
Faith is a bitch during your final show.
It might've been easier if there was nowhere to go.

I wonder what it's like to watch us in pain.
I wonder what it's like to witness our shame.
Are you angry at how selfishly we've turned this around?
Is there any time up there to enjoy what you've found?

I guess we may never know until someday later if we meet.
I guess I'll just spend my time here on the edge of my seat.
If there's any justice, though, you won't have long to wait.
I just hope I make it there, and don't get dragged down by hate.

There's just so much left here you could've made better,
and I can't just call or write you a letter.
So I cry for a hero and wonder why you had to be it.
I sob like a lost child, knowing you'd hate to see it.

Doc

Sometimes I don't know why the things I do are the things I try.
Sometimes I don't know who I can believe; who's being true.
Sometimes the shit will fall down no matter how low you crawl.
Sometimes the shit just sinks no matter what the devil thinks.

'Sometimes I think I'm crazy. Other times I know I'm not.'*
Sometimes I think I'm lazy. Easily, I could be bought.
Sometimes the fear & pain are the only things that never change.
Sometimes there's no time left to pick them up & rearrange.

Sometimes the hate is there. It's just too difficult to care.
Sometimes the hate is gone; its absence suddenly unfair.
Sometimes I could just kill, snuff you out with my free will.
Sometimes I wish these feelings were controlled by another pill.

* "Tumult" by Stone Sour, Stone Sour (2002)