There’s this deal we make or break
And there goes your secret handshake
Don’t know how much more I can take
This thing I thought was real is fake
Snakes and ladders, the game you play
Great a price, for staying I pay
I suffer more and more each day
But still, with you, I choose to stay
This decision is hit or miss
I never thought I’d come to this
To no longer long for your kiss
Ignorance is not always bliss
Can’t be with someone mean, heartless
I give up, I’ve had enough stress
I just want to love more, hate less
The eject button, now I press
My hair is singed
I can smell it in the air
My brain’s fried
Smoke coming outta my ears
Emotionally exhausted
Eyes welling with tears
Arms numb from steering
Trying, but I can’t stay afloat
Time for another crash-landing
Babe, you know I’m not a pilot
Mayday, mayday!
I scream fireballs
You do this to me babe
My heart hits a brick wall
You wear that face I hate (ignorance)
This mothership’s spun
You know what? (indifference)
Yeah all of it done
Headed for a supanova
Where’s that button?
Babe - it’s over!
Do we still need love?
This is the future
Cos’ it’s so primitive
Used to be our best feature
Now ten years later
Can’t access my memory bank
You feel like a stranger
The love we once felt blank
I feel so dejected
Obviously wasn’t built to last
It too complicated
Let’s face it, time to - eject!
Eject ~ The tithe be bound
to fanciful persuasion in resound
I hail or hate the cost, despite the pound
and seemingly ascension is still ground!
It is the faded glory of rebound
unnecessary casting, waging's crowned,
the monarchies direction still compounds
no force, this indiscretion turned around!
The gory resolution, not new found
and I in revolution, playbacks frowned
eject this erstwhile treason . . all abound ~
and register my reason . . . freedom's town!
Smiles are irrationality embodies
as the Tides' curling edges hopelessly
Moon-driven. It is Poppy seed dialect
and swollen pupil diction,
and it is
an Om's eternity away
from lolling tongue, rolling eyes, gnawinggrindinggnashing
molars who read road atlas veins in crude
braille like tea leaves:
The taste of God
in a shrapnel bomb.