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P.o.w.
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Miscellaneous
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P.o.w.
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i'm finding it hard to think without being distracted, a cracked egg,
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collapsing again, into being the centre of the universe, my focus
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dispersed. now i label myself as every new trend is developed, caught by
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myself when the priorities are dropped. disable my table of
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contents while the past tense is shocked....i'm still moving on.
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i'm never mentioned in statistics 'cos ballistics just wont realize the
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size of my caliber. now i prefer to avoid all mediocrity, still escaping
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the
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hypocrisy, that i feel be creeping up on me dropping heavy loads on my
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shoulders exploiting my lack of rest now i think that it's a test for
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my realness, 'myrealness' my schizophrenic fear is armwrestling with my
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true self 'mytrueself' HAH what a concept forever a changing,
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facechanging, evolving into unexcpectable form. varying distance to norm
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yet again i'm reborn to a world of scrutiny, a world so full of me,
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and never this willingly have i walked into the desert. never before,
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and never again, will this be the message that i want to send.
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[chorus]
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a shout turns into a whisper, a cry is left unheard. a doubt reopens the
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blisters, and we're all left to stagnate.
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i refuse to sink down to the level where the sincerity's lost, i've
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found myself out on the cross-roads. too many times wandring on the
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paths previously unknown, if it's a good
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thing it's yet to be shown, shifted winds of chameleon waitig to be
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blown, but not up in size surprise, surprise... -no-one hears your
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cries. in the deep end.
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following fashion and trends is like including the word modern on the
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title of a book, just a useless hook, which too many took too serious,
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filth filled their oesophagus, cause they
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swallowed it all too easy, it don't please me, the weakness, too
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careless the unquestioned treaty, the reclamation of recreation of free
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thought, that's still been fought for every
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day, but in the strangest ways, it's the winners of this war that're
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being laughed at in their face, and the losers taking over in an
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everincreasing pace. so which way was it
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anyway? were the heards all originally grey? but i got the capacity,
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still just being a branch in the smallest of trees. never again and
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never before, lose your self, it's time to settle
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the score.
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[chorus]
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a shout turns into a whisper, a cry is left unheard. a doubt reopens the
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blisters, and we're all left to stagnate.
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(C)contrast 1997
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