lake of lacklustre

You're empty 
I can't see behind your eyes
the glass that reflects 
is not your emotion but mine
it's like you've abandoned ship
there's nobody home
you're hiding behind smoke
and I can't see through the decline
(the lights aren't on and nobody's home)
I could pretend you're interesting 
but I can't listen to you as you drone
all I can do is watch you
as you leave me on my own

You used to be so bright
shone like polished stones
traded in for grit dull and sold
your curiosity and your mind
you think your argument is so 
free and self-grown
but you are repeating the line
read by persons on and on

Bright Young Thing why are you so sad
are you looking to a future you never had
why can't you see what you have in front of you
is an ever-changing path
if you think this is happiness 
you are wrong
if you think this is normal
you are having me on
if you think emptiness is a replacement for solving your problems
you are already too far gone

the media will tear us apart again

Well I don't know about the 'other',

is there even a 'them'?

a who or why a where a how a read about and when

I don't know about this palava 

I think you're making it up,

making something out of nothing- you must be seeing things

See, I do know about the weather

- The Now and we're together,

the making things from broken things

and stringing together everything

(learning each others ways)

I know about the colours,

I see them everyday

- the vibrancy of vibrant things,

the second glance at 'normal' things.

Why can't you see it hurting,

we're already getting along

- because I don't care where you were born

or where you're 'really from'.

I think you're picking at a puzzle

which has already been done

- we fit and meet and go together

and there is nothing wrong.

unnatural law

How dare you presume 

to preside over another kind 

our lives exist by chance

you aren't the be all of life

because to say we were more evolved

does not give you automatic right

to enslave another race

and overuse your might

if you think that this obsession with power

makes you smart and strong

you are wrong

you are just regressing back to 

the primates that we came from

natural law exists in natural state

and this artificial empire 

a dark world does make

I suppose it's okay

when you don't see them

locked in cages

when you can't hear them

crying with pain

they might be out of your sight

but I put it to you that

you are out of your mind

to allow these transgressions 

to not be seen as crime

and the guilt that you would feel

if you saw them writhing

saw them struggling for air

your guilt would choke your airways

and pour out of every pore

(like the blood every day 

drains from them as they die on the floor)

What gives you the right 

to control and abuse

to stand at the top of the world

with everything under you feet for your use

just remember that they sustain you

and in this way they hold the tools

and one day, the day is coming

when every inch of life

that has felt mans disuse 

will stand up and accuse

when we all burn 

it will be them who turn from you

and finally you will feel their hurt

But while the current hierarchy exists

and the greedy and the selfish rule

there is nothing to be done

but the lead by example and 

enlighten a few

and hope the few see the light

and I know if it was within my power

and without fear of afterlife

for every life of every animal

I would give mine

city in dust

I want to walk down every street

and feel the broken glass-

the dust and the stones and the broken bones beneath my feet

I want to feel the pulse of the dying animal under my hand

I want to lie with my dying city for one last time

(I want to lie with her again)

I know your skin is wearing thin

it stretches a little too far over everything I've known

I know the little hair you keep is fading grey

the stacks and stacks of bones

go to sleep my fair kin, go to sleep

wrongs don't make

you are friction
an ungainly addiction
you keep me warm,
i can't complain
you keep my fettered heart
in bits and parts
-i guess that's all i can say
i don't know whether to love you or hate you,
to keep or discard you-
although it's not my choice to make
i want to own you;
want to loathe you;
but still you come;
Away, away

my bed is broken
with words unspoken
-and things yet to come
you are wholesome,
and utterly loathsome
you don't know your soul
from your name
-this broken thing
i keep it going
this bloody token
of your hold
on me-

welcome to the 21st century

There are no broken records
(I know I sound like one)
our lives are spoken
like gods not woken
on CD and MP3
-a broken song
lost in translation 
done up with obligation 
and promises to keep
hold your own
we've done away
with adultery 
and trickery
(because no one fucks to love anymore)
we have no ties to break
and speak over when people try to think
we're losing touch with reality 
and all the things that are meant to be
good for me
I am full of need
but
-we still spin records
and smile as we sleep

Enoch Rising

I cannot tell of old soldiers lost

but I would to each and every one:

a Voice

to sing pain and anguish out in verse

-to hear it cried out and fought and learnt 

Their agony on radiowaves

sent to every home

gather round and listen well

-These men are men that made 

the world we live in now

But to know is a terrible thing

and secretly I thank;

to know not of a time

when my men were to die

and their prayers unsent.

We've so much more to give

a debt never to be repaid 

(and repaid in kind)

the lives that were lost

-the whole world's a grave.