Vacant horizons

Every time there’s a different reason,
every night is a different hue of blue,
don’t matter how we blew it,
it’s gonna take a while to get used to,

Vacant horizons,
they stare me in my face,
ain’t it a disgrace,
we had to go our ways,
after going strong for so long,

It all feels so wrong,
wished we could’ve been more wise,
made less alibis,
checked our tempers when they were on rise,

I wished we had shown a little more allegiance,
a little more willingness to try,
and tried to solve the differences,
as they came by.
But the differences went unchecked,
and between the mounds of egotism,
a valley of revulsion has crept,

We try to hide it under the rug,
but the stench gets unbearable,
we just had to pull the plug.
You end up killing the things you love.

Its gonna feel a lot lonesome,
We’re not too keen to fix the wrongs,
We’ve accepted defeat at the hands of fate,
And we lack the will to challenge,
the verdict we’re shown.

You didn’t had to go the way you did,
it didn’t had to end the way it did,
but what’s the point in ruminating,
the damage has already been did.


Shadows of the stranger

Ghosts abound in these surrounds,
but aliens surreptitiously run this place.
And as everyone knows,
aliens are harder to tame,
people would deny they even exist.

What all have you seen,
that you thought was really strange?
Did you let it seep in so deep,
that it would drive you insane?
Have you ever met a stranger,
who you thought was really strange?
Did you ever deny a sense of kinship,
in reflection you decided to disdain?

The madness once it touches you,
never seems to go away.
It’s a nightmare,
and all you want to do is hide away.
It’s a death ray,
and all you want is to escape.
Not knowing what it is,
you asked for it,
now it’s proving hard to take.
You trip once,
and you see your world has gone insane.
have you accepted this as the end?
If you’d known it’ll come to this,
would you still have gone all the way?

When you find yourself,
in the shadows of a stranger,
Just look right into its eyes,
See the spell break,
and the shadow,
the strange,
melts away.

Shaking space

A man of action compelled to dream on,
remain a man of words.

A heart, burning with desires,
hides its lesions to seem alright,
lest, branded as their own, a commoner,
he’s booed off stage,
or mistaken as a corpse, entombed.

So he could still harbour hope.
This lighthouse keeps him off senility, on shore,
He wants to come alive,
And be eaten out alive.
At the same time.

Tired and wasted,
suffocated on hope,
it implodes, explodes,
spreads itself too far for a lift off.

A cripple, a retard, a crook, a fake, a joke,
all merged into this tragic organism that wills to reshape.
It needs to grow,
horns to scare, a tail to earth,
it needs to grow some balls,
become more pop.
It oughta turn itself into dan the rough,
With blood on his sickle and heads on the floor.

He did attempt a copout,
but the fucking delusion to soar,
merrily chains him to the floor.

How far can a stubborn art go?
In a world emptied of direction and space,
this world he himself made,
chock-a-block with the facts, the processes and the ways,
juxtaposing horror flicks and fairy tales.

Silenced, he awaits the apocalypse,
secretly wishing, still just wishing,
even in his shame,
unable to renounce, he awaits,
a redeeming encore, the concluding embrace.

Someday, hopefully before it’s too late,
I hope he lets go and just gets on with it.
Or maybe, precisely in this deferment lies his plague.