My feet are cold, wandering these night time floors
In my deepest rooted fears, from a nightmare cause
I hear the sound, more than I see it there
Cloaked and unseen, the presence, a chill in the air
...
Muscle and sweat, her body moving, everything now set
Leather encased and walking to this place, the metal sect
Here is my home; here is my kingdom of musical desires
Here’s a heat that draws the moisture and sets souls on fires
...
You’ve never tasted better until I licked your scars
Push this into your blindness sensation, helpless, humiliate
My loving victim of circumstance my idol of weeping stars
Power sincere as I caress your wounds, sting and copulate
...
The retarded, the insane, the dying, the dispossessed
The victims and the drooling, a science for the obsessed
The whaling, the crying, cold shivering and the dying
Screams of the tortured and the autopsy’s incising
...
Living to the dream under the vial of something fantastic
Lost in my mind somewhere undesignated but simplistic
Reaching to a point of reasoning, so somehow I’m fine
As someday I know now this will all make sense in time
...
So much culture embroidered into a single fathoming
Of universal global commitments, for understanding
That skin was meant to be touched and a body held
Close to something so unpolluted, pure and excelled
...
Stagger the formation, undo the commitments, thee, be free
Rise, to the standing of your body, now stronger in energy
Enemies sought your destruction, now unprepared for this
I am running again, reaching to the doorway, of my bliss
...
Caught here in the isolation chamber located between
The borderland of awake and desired unconsciousness
As though the bilateral entwined exploration of thought
Has abandoned me to a journey to a sleep of the hopeless
...
I am nearly 30, I remember mobiles that couldn't send texts, email had never been heard of, CD ROM hadn't been invented yet, my first computer couldn't log on to the internet because it didn't exist then and TV had only 4 channels, the only way to stay in touch was by a hand written letter and yeah I really miss that.
...
Being alone in the darkness, when it all makes sense
Free to engage the utilities, from radicals to pretence
Dawning of a realisation, conjured to the understanding
A vocal monologue, or soliloquy, reveals tendering
...