I am never alone
When it’s quiet I’m drumming my fingers,
Tapping a riot and strumming at a thought that lingers.
When it’s silent, in nonviolent moments, I’m dreaming,
Dreaming of screaming, dreams teeming with meaning,
I dream dreams that seem to be blue jeans with faded knees
They fit so old and I think it means, they’re too jaded to please.

When it’s empty I fill my cup with noise,
Boys will be boys will be boys.
When I can’t talk I think, I think about drinks,
I think about lingering winks,
lost down the drain of wandering sinks.
And I try so hard to be clever, forever and ever,
but I’ve never said whatever they sever stays attached,
I’m forever a lever to my own ego, detached.

When I cannot wilt I rise, when I can’t sit in shit I hit the skies.
I have often felt, that leather belt, that beats me between the eyes.
I remember, being a member of a family, being in danger,
Strange and stranger, I barely recall the instance, the fall of the feeling of change.
I always see the distance, the regrets, the hedged bets, How I stay out of range.

You can’t throw hurt at me though, can’t throw dirt at me so,
You can’t flirt with my touch. You can’t drink too much,
or throw up a bunch or blow up or some such.
I keep my head down, I frown instead of something to say,
I clown and I use fury and sound and I push you away.

There might be times where you see my heart, just start to start,
Before I rip it apart, because I’m art and I can’t be part of this.
I’m only working against myself here,
I’m only delivering the shivering feeling of fear,
That I’ve always known, when I’m alone, and I never am.

It seems like I’m a negative person,
I’m not a two-legged hearse, I’m only her son.
That mother of fear and father of failure, what avails you can ail her.
What I know of being a man I could stuff in an envelope and mail her.
So sad that I can’t be sad, too bad. Too bad my dad is dead and he was all I had.
I’m mad I can’t be mad and constantly blame you away.
I’m pissed that I can’t be pissed and this is all I have left to say.
Turns out they lied, I died inside and I’m still here today.

You don’t need a heart to keep pumping,
don’t need wings to keep jumping,
don’t need love to keep humping,
don’t need nothing to feel something.

Turns out the walking dead are all well read depressed obsessed writers,
Who quote what the liars said, in a suppressed & repressed party of fires.
We are all prizes and there’s not a single fucking Cracker Jack.
We all normalize a single stupid laughing lacking fact.

That I can’t be alone, I never am, I can’t be by myself.
I can’t be at home, I never am, I am always somewhere else.
I can’t see the dark, my eyes mark the points of light,
I can’t be as blind as I’d like, my second skill is second sight.
I can’t be alone, I never am, and this is me in the light.