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> An Army Of Shapes Between Wars
>> Smoke And Mirrors

Comatose, feed my head with liberty, I've got an appetite for deceit. I'm done, well done, stick fork in
me, cover me in apathy, dicreetly and distinct able. I am trying to break your heart. I'm plagued with
doubt, no frogs or murdered first born. My thoughts are just a little sun burnt, dismantle all that ever
was, strip it down: withdraw the blood. Something going to break real soon, who's covering whose eyes?
Safety in knowing others lies pulled by the strings of time. Hold me back: I'm going to throw it all down
on the table. Do you expect us to believe in these fables? Oh, what to do with you? with you, with you,
with you? Hold me tight, it seems all I really have is in front of me, is the rest just a dream or a
fallacy? Oh, what to do with you? with you, with you, with you? A throw back to all those 80's slasher
flicks, you're a cheap killer, and I'm getting sick of it. God's dead, and all bets have waived their
rights, all is fair in love and time, who win the game of war? Illusion, a delusion, a terrible secret,
what one does see is another's lost prophet. Hold me close, I can see right through you, challegne all
you've ever heard, incite the search and motivate. Somthing going to break real soon, who's covering whose
eyes? Safety in knowing others lies, pulled by the strings of time. Please read between the lines, a
simple compromise between the sands of time. Please say with me, say with me...

>> A Tornado; An Owl

Take what you've got, take comfort, in that everything you know, or seen will soon be a non existent dot.
Who'll save the world that claims there is no saving? An illusion or delusion of grandeur. Half of what I
say is bliss, the other half is meaningless. Comfortable lines. Wating for the clock to heal us. Lost and
found, but neer touched. Another beating heart is lost: Interesting lies. Waiting for the clock to heal us.
Alone in our rooms, miserable, a tornado or an owl, come back and isolate the balance. Nothing is
real; your heart on your sleeve, just another lie, transcend the pride, oh the chemicals. Take your time,
nothingness is something and something is nothing.

>> The Game

Don't want to fall in love when it's in front of us. Why can't we dream? Fantasize without compromise, a
tear duct short of an alibi. Please thaw me out, and brush me off. Is love is quite the fallacy,
underneath the mystery? So, you finally came right out of my head and into my arms. Now these feelings I
know, I'll never let go. I've beaten the game. My alter ego's upstairs strung out on the couch. I need a
touch of innocence, so comfortable. So velvet lush and nectarous, there is a price to pay for dreaming. Is
love an emergency? Join in my perplexity!

>> Paper Cliché

I to want take my head and cut it open extra wide. Want to examine oh the thoughts that seem to cricle
inside. Electrocute my thoughts or put my self on stand by. I'm so over, I'm so over...Let's open up the
sky and let the clichés pour. Everything has been executed better before. 8-bit Fantasies, I'm yesterday's
technology. Follow the leader, jump off with me. The wine is dripping with the blood off of my finger
tips. The mitochodrion are revolting, please take care off it. Carnivorous cells are winning against your
cancer lips. So come over so come over...Oh my god, I want to tear you apart. I am walking but I'm still
asleep. Oh my lord, this is blasphemy. Wake me up before I fall too deep. I wish I had an original thought
inside my skull. Everything has been done a million times before. My dream sequence has become my life or
so it seems. All my friends are dead, in a perfect scene. Oh my god, I want to tear you apart. I am
walking but I'm still asleep. Oh my lord, this is blasphemy. Wake me up before I fall too deep. In too
deep. Oblivious and numb. I want hurt you, but I can't cut you fast enough. The ink is dripping, and my
letter has become a mess. I want to hate you, but hate is love, just reversed. Why do we talk about things
that we loathe the most?

>> 120 Ways To Kill You: An Illustrated Children's Book

Wait, I really don't have the gots for this, it must have been abstracted with my appendix, or maybe it
grows with my wisdom teeth. Wait, it might be such a stretch, it's not my fault legally, I'll dial the
doctors now, you're right I never was a man for the law. Please don't walk away in defeat. Wait, I haven't
lost my courage on the rocks, I haven't quite found the words to use. I'm not sure they make the cards to
break this ice. Wait; Please wait until our socks are bitterly soaked, until we have to roll up our pants,
until the giraffes flee to row boats. Please don't walk away in anger darling, exit gracefully like the
evening's sunset, enter the scene starting with a dial tone, tightrope over these razorblade
complications. Cutting myself, almost everyday, let it feel so real, let me taste the pain. One day we'll
live in igloos on the Galapagos, 'till then let's remember the Atlantic air in-between our hands...The
worms are moving, the grass is growing, flowers are blooming, the leaves are dropping, the birds are
chirping, clouds are forming, the sun is burning, self medication never ends...I taught you how to hate,
you taught me how to love too. This is how I lost my mind on you. This is our final dance, you taught me
how to love and I taught you how to hate; everything is based off of you. Isn't it funny how we lost
control, or how I lost my mind on you?