Happy Medium

Cuz god made me a Lamb CooCooCachoo, And Blake a tyger with the potential to do. I am one of the Unhappy; we’ve seen an unsettling light. I made myself an Unhappy; I had to search for that light. I laughed at Job I laughed at him And through those laughs, though chaste, was sin “Let there be Light, but not for him And Let Job’s patience never wear thin” You’d never play one of Satan’s games But you play with the god ‘created you and his fame He built all the strings, left you to dangle in his image With threats and with bribes he keeps them believing all the same What a bleeding whore, am I right? No that was Pandora for merely associating with her bleeding infected box of sores. She gave you the lie, the longing sigh, the brief high, that whore That fox’s box is her own freaking paradox; she’s an original spore They’ll tell the same sulky story but twist and spin like smoke That box let out every species of evil and monophyletic hope The greatest mutualism of parasites solely dependent on us hosts The virus needs t’die, goodbye, ill feed you no longer, you squatting joke Cuz god he made me a lamb CooCooCachoo And filled the world with tygers to ruin you Their brutality’s only matched by my innocence? Is that so, Well **** you Leibniz Lambs are soft and malleable, owned by the system they obey Where are tygers without their prey And what’s a shiny, pious knight with nothing to slay You’d expect to see clouds when you open your eyes but I have and I only see wool No symmetry in jagged teeth. Tigers eat lambs eight fold a piece I’ve seen enlightenment, a truth too bright. Most dare not see this A light like that could only forshadow, the end of this wretched dark tunnel And I’m just a little boy-student all-nighter tonight Behind dumbbell eyelids, homework’s no longer in sight But I know the forecast and I see white And today was a Saturday and I feel like you created enough adversity for one ****ing week so you can stay awake taking notes all you ****ing want but I’m tired as *****and going to bed You ask what made me too tired and drowsy to stick it out through night And I blame this drowsy, tiresome life. The exhaustion of a lasting fight I blame the happy medium between half-*****and bad that’s always in only my sight Because life’s a drunken blind crippled scale that won’t ever change if you open your eyes Maybe you see the light just prior to death for a reason