When the tidings are shining
When the riding in timing
When the wedding is climbing
Over mountains behind men

When the whispers of motion
When they tell us of potions
To our immortality heal
To increase average appeal I

Feel like A trilogy ending
A world I was pretending
To love in comprehending
It's movement through today

Why do I even
Bother smothering out the
Flames with acid

If there was a quire
Whose tones idly rose higher
Higher and higher and higher
For each and every year

If they into the heights spire
Until they rose to a level
No other ones could acquire
And the critics somewhat bedevil

This constantly obscene versery
Filled with blistering bevel
The notes that flank and curses flee
But still the quires revel

A sound you can't hear, a sound you can't see
Because it is so high that it can't be heard
And with this tone strange to all humanity
They uttered a verse without spoken words

No one could understand, nor could they sense
The power or beauty in those words in swift French
But did not the little man English in brew
Appreciate the foreign silence in cue

And how about the Spaniard sitting on a row
Did he not appreciate the smooth and toneful flow
In a language he didn't speak, yet he could not hear
The notes that slowly eloped through the room, loud and clear

There has to be a meaning
To all this senseless screening
Of movies I have seen when
They keep playing rolls over

There has to be a reason
For this past cinematical season
All the deceased masterpieces breathin
Once again, like the 12 men

There has to be an origin
To this sudden uplifting reliving
The day the world stood silent
The rise of an unformed religion

It has been so for times to be
Time has passed, one year for me
The clips that I so gladly see
Once again in colors now clear

Relinquished in shades a new
The flicks of action to me so dear
Vanquished have been but a few
And so it moves on year for year

Outside my porch stands a pigeon
Idle on but one leg bare
And thus I wonder why it is so
When he has a full pair

Why can't I
A guy with glass eyes
See past life

Why can't I
As Hyde's psy-chass drive
States in past lives

Why can't I
Define my life by vibes
And stay silent

Why can't I
Stop the violence, why
Can't I fly

I see what I see
I get what I get
To all humanity
My mind is an outlet

It pictures what I hear
It sees as I do
I chose what I feel
I leave still confused

My mind is a riddle
No answer in my mind
But if I search a little
The answer I will find!

Don't do or belittle
Or take what mind is mine
For I am lost and little
But lines are lit and defined

All around us