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The Ritual

Oh my darling, a white picket fence,
Oh my darling, a polite cricket wench,
In my face, you can't see, my soul.

Oh, my darling, oh, my darling, my pride has gone.
It's been replaced, it's been replaced by something else and it's not quite the same.

I've seen it all.

And we come to find ourselves in two kinds of denial.
One's in front of the tv and one's a handshake without a smile.
There's no chores to do and every manic is in its right place.
And so I turn to the pitchforks, and I'm not feeling unstable,
And I'm at least smiling even though, I feel sick.

And I turn to her, and I turn to the tv, and there's nothing on,
I feel as though I'm going to split in two.

And if you ask me, how am I today? I will tell you I need to scream stab something away.
There's too many pigs, too many suck ups, too many truffles, too much of it cooking in my brain.

And I let that out, and i know they heard, so I turn to her and I try to fit in and I say, will you be my amphetamine in this horrible land.

My brain's dreams are built on childhood amphetamines, slowly they crumble like teeth 9 to 5 until I'm a grey ash cigarette.

Slowly, they burn like teeth in the sun.
Surely, we can rumble up some new journey, or run?

Feels like my skull is wide open on the town, everywhere I go, I'm wearing a minor key while wearing a smile. And you can turn this frown upside down.

If you're feeling rebellious, it's too late. We have eaten their food, drank the water. Everything is at stake.

Sing me a sigh bullet, sightless and vile for it, sing me a song oncoming blow,
show me where I went wrong... Oh yes, I know, so I behold you.

Can we run away, before we watch the tv and melt.
My amphetamine, I don't want to wait, I'm so scared we will rot in place.

And they turn the Colosseum broadcast on in all their television homes.
And the know where to shop, what to say, who's in trend, safely up on their cigarette thrones.

And they know how long they have left to pitchfork our home.
And you expect me, and I expect me, to ask them , "Hello you, how was your day?" 
Without any psychopathic thought in anyway. 
No one reads, here, no one thinks much more than, 
I think I can go now, no more thoughts.
Everybody, everybody's losing their dreams,
Everybody, everybody's gluing their eyes.

I think I can fit in now,
No more, thoughts.
I think I can take part in the vow.
No more, pain.
The Ritual is beginning to take place.
I can smile, and no need to kill, is growing steadily in my brain.





Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




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