#224 Truth Of
To me
True beauty
Is vivid
Yet polluting
To me
True art
Is a world
Torn apart
To me
True music
Is a sound
You don't hear
That even when
The silence sets
Can be found
In your ear
To me
True beauty
Is vivid
Yet polluting
To me
True art
Is a world
Torn apart
To me
True music
Is a sound
You don't hear
That even when
The silence sets
Can be found
In your ear
If you could rent me a seldom soul
Would I become one of those?
Those kings of Rock n' Roll
Maybe, I suppose
If I dressed up in vivid clothes
And jackets two sizes too small
And if I learned to scream and curse
Without a good verse at all
Then I could jump onto the stage
If I could jump that high ....
And kneel and scream out all my rage
At the taverns sky
And lean out and grimace strange
At my loyal fans
If I had a seldom soul
All I then would need, would be
A band
If you can't reach the truth
Then let me search for you
For everything does matter
In the end
if you can't find the tunes
That in your soul do bloom
Then let me lend a hand
Again
If you are lost and confused
Over both meaning and use
Don't let yourself lose
A friend
Who will help you whenever you chose
Together all lost lines fuse
And all your broken parts and pieces
Mend
Oh holy ghost
Will you let a stranger
Cross you
Oh holy ghost
Will you become then
Cross too
I'm whole at most
In soul and oath
I cloak my emotion
I loath to go
To the otherside
If it exists
I don't fear
The burning pits
But if they are there
I lack a bit
Of self redemption
Too much esteem
Or too little green
For me to mention
In my testament
Can't leave behind
Much of property
Or of mind
I didn't live in poverty
But still I find
That wherever death leads me
It won't enrich me
So indeed, see
Life is peachy.
In space we land
So let's hold hands
Our race supreme
So wide and grand
We race with bands
The binds of time
Our race so bland
So pale and prime
Us primates plan
Oh humankind
Our lives of man
We stride and shine
We smide our plans
And scheme to be
The utmost strand
Of all that's free
If you listen
To this moment
All the visions
That bestow
The mission
In it's omen
And the future
Is here now
Your impression
Is my mirror
To the tension
In this world
Is of lesser
Value then
Than the trails
Of my pen