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The clouds seem to be moving really slow today. Asking instead for the sun to move around them, instead of standing aside like they always had done before... this painted sky that's defined the day, watching over us as we waste away.
It's pretty damn funny... and they say the insane ones now know... lets see if I'm hearing this right, you're telling me that they're insane? Why? Ever thought why so? What can they see that we can't? What do they know?
They're not insane, they just can't handle their truth. We lock them away because they're afraid to speak, they're afraid of letting the others know... become like them, for that would be selfish, they'll let us live in our frail light...
And so they'll sit smiling to themselves, wondering how long it's going to be again until once again they find out more. A seconds delay from the moment the fork hits the floor, and the click that occurs as he watches the faces... the pointless worry over a second, the hardly a ticking of a knife as it occurs most quietly in the huge shout that they know is life...
The key to insanity lies that you accept what you refuse to accept... the shouts heard over the small finger trails of life, stroking across a bare chest of nothingness... because you refuse to accept this world, but learn that it's the only one.
But how wrong are they... for they aren't insane, but simply the television watchers of the past and present, viewing life through a small glass screen, the window of a life that could never be, for all that could be stands before you, and has failed, and will fail. Because life echoes fiction, even more so than the writers, the simple minded drug that's given to thousands, and they only don't realise it's a drug because the tv refuses to tell them... no, lap it up, take in your conversation starters for tommorrow in the office, lay brain-dead in your insane knowledge that you have your life, and you couldn't be happier.
So to accept, that, my dear friend, is the last injustice of man... for acceptance destroys hope, acceptance destroys love, acceptance destroys all that could keep us from discovering that horrible flaw... that we believe life can be catagorised... and we believe that there is no other.
Supressed homosexuality reeks of thousands because they're stereotyped. People refuse to speak their mind for fear of being labelled... for fear of not being 'quite' as good at those that have gotten up, taken that deep breath, and told people who the damn hell they are.
And what happens then? Our clench fisted nation lays into THEM. For they have the courage to live through their life, as do we all, and for once they want to speak aloud, show the world who they are, and we sit back and comment that their hair is nice, or perhaps that she's put on weight.
All they want to do? Communicate. That's the savoir of our lives... the lasting detail that could save us all.
But no. We refuse to learn, we refuse to listen, to read, to see into the eyes of that boy that sits crying and ask him what the hell can we do. Human's are lonely because we're afraid of being judged by people who in the end are exactly the same as us. We are lonely because we refuse to communicate. We refuse to let people know WHO we are.
Your name is a label for the life you have led, your tastes are only a representation of how much of an escape you really need from this life, and your mind is only the carbon copy of everything you've been bought up to accept. And how wrong are you.
Because, the more you look at it, the deeper you see... we're all insane. Every last one of us. We spend money on books and films to make up for the fact we refuse to talk to people. We go to the gym so we can look like someone from the tv because we haven't the confidence to walk straight up to someone and tell them who we are, instead of who we could be if you concentrate hard enough.
We live in a world where generosity shocks us. We live in a world where if someone tells us we're a wonderful person, it hits us hard... why? Because we're so distant to people that speak their minds. We're so utterly flawed and we ACCEPT that there can be no other way. We'll all just talk about Big Brother... because we're happy.
Your hair is lovely, no matter how you put it up. Your voice is fantastic, even when you're not speaking. Your body is beautiful, because it's who you are. Your eyes speak to us more than your clothes ever could. Speak your mind, let the world know that you are here, let the world know that you're in love, let the world know that you're on a mission, you're having fun in life... You need alcohol to speak your mind? You need your drugs, your happiness, when all you need is the courage? The brisk courage to be YOURSELF. Stop hiding behind your six, seven, eight different personalities, and realise that they're ALL you.
And for that brief moment, everyone listened to a single man that spoke his mind. Nothing came of it, nothing ever will. Because to listen is one thing, to think is another, but to act, well, that's something not many of us know about.
But he spoke his mind, and it was a start.
It's pretty damn funny... and they say the insane ones now know... lets see if I'm hearing this right, you're telling me that they're insane? Why? Ever thought why so? What can they see that we can't? What do they know?
They're not insane, they just can't handle their truth. We lock them away because they're afraid to speak, they're afraid of letting the others know... become like them, for that would be selfish, they'll let us live in our frail light...
And so they'll sit smiling to themselves, wondering how long it's going to be again until once again they find out more. A seconds delay from the moment the fork hits the floor, and the click that occurs as he watches the faces... the pointless worry over a second, the hardly a ticking of a knife as it occurs most quietly in the huge shout that they know is life...
The key to insanity lies that you accept what you refuse to accept... the shouts heard over the small finger trails of life, stroking across a bare chest of nothingness... because you refuse to accept this world, but learn that it's the only one.
But how wrong are they... for they aren't insane, but simply the television watchers of the past and present, viewing life through a small glass screen, the window of a life that could never be, for all that could be stands before you, and has failed, and will fail. Because life echoes fiction, even more so than the writers, the simple minded drug that's given to thousands, and they only don't realise it's a drug because the tv refuses to tell them... no, lap it up, take in your conversation starters for tommorrow in the office, lay brain-dead in your insane knowledge that you have your life, and you couldn't be happier.
So to accept, that, my dear friend, is the last injustice of man... for acceptance destroys hope, acceptance destroys love, acceptance destroys all that could keep us from discovering that horrible flaw... that we believe life can be catagorised... and we believe that there is no other.
Supressed homosexuality reeks of thousands because they're stereotyped. People refuse to speak their mind for fear of being labelled... for fear of not being 'quite' as good at those that have gotten up, taken that deep breath, and told people who the damn hell they are.
And what happens then? Our clench fisted nation lays into THEM. For they have the courage to live through their life, as do we all, and for once they want to speak aloud, show the world who they are, and we sit back and comment that their hair is nice, or perhaps that she's put on weight.
All they want to do? Communicate. That's the savoir of our lives... the lasting detail that could save us all.
But no. We refuse to learn, we refuse to listen, to read, to see into the eyes of that boy that sits crying and ask him what the hell can we do. Human's are lonely because we're afraid of being judged by people who in the end are exactly the same as us. We are lonely because we refuse to communicate. We refuse to let people know WHO we are.
Your name is a label for the life you have led, your tastes are only a representation of how much of an escape you really need from this life, and your mind is only the carbon copy of everything you've been bought up to accept. And how wrong are you.
Because, the more you look at it, the deeper you see... we're all insane. Every last one of us. We spend money on books and films to make up for the fact we refuse to talk to people. We go to the gym so we can look like someone from the tv because we haven't the confidence to walk straight up to someone and tell them who we are, instead of who we could be if you concentrate hard enough.
We live in a world where generosity shocks us. We live in a world where if someone tells us we're a wonderful person, it hits us hard... why? Because we're so distant to people that speak their minds. We're so utterly flawed and we ACCEPT that there can be no other way. We'll all just talk about Big Brother... because we're happy.
Your hair is lovely, no matter how you put it up. Your voice is fantastic, even when you're not speaking. Your body is beautiful, because it's who you are. Your eyes speak to us more than your clothes ever could. Speak your mind, let the world know that you are here, let the world know that you're in love, let the world know that you're on a mission, you're having fun in life... You need alcohol to speak your mind? You need your drugs, your happiness, when all you need is the courage? The brisk courage to be YOURSELF. Stop hiding behind your six, seven, eight different personalities, and realise that they're ALL you.
And for that brief moment, everyone listened to a single man that spoke his mind. Nothing came of it, nothing ever will. Because to listen is one thing, to think is another, but to act, well, that's something not many of us know about.
But he spoke his mind, and it was a start.
Very insightful. I realised something reading this.
Grix Thraves wrote:
everyone listened to a single man that
> spoke his mind. Nothing came of it, nothing ever will. Because to
> listen is one thing, to think is another, but to act, well, that's
> something not many of us know about.
THAT is soooo true.
everyone listened to a single man that
> spoke his mind. Nothing came of it, nothing ever will. Because to
> listen is one thing, to think is another, but to act, well, that's
> something not many of us know about.
THAT is soooo true.
The clouds seem to be moving really slow today. Asking instead for the sun to move around them, instead of standing aside like they always had done before... this painted sky that's defined the day, watching over us as we waste away.
It's pretty damn funny... and they say the insane ones now know... lets see if I'm hearing this right, you're telling me that they're insane? Why? Ever thought why so? What can they see that we can't? What do they know?
They're not insane, they just can't handle their truth. We lock them away because they're afraid to speak, they're afraid of letting the others know... become like them, for that would be selfish, they'll let us live in our frail light...
And so they'll sit smiling to themselves, wondering how long it's going to be again until once again they find out more. A seconds delay from the moment the fork hits the floor, and the click that occurs as he watches the faces... the pointless worry over a second, the hardly a ticking of a knife as it occurs most quietly in the huge shout that they know is life...
The key to insanity lies that you accept what you refuse to accept... the shouts heard over the small finger trails of life, stroking across a bare chest of nothingness... because you refuse to accept this world, but learn that it's the only one.
But how wrong are they... for they aren't insane, but simply the television watchers of the past and present, viewing life through a small glass screen, the window of a life that could never be, for all that could be stands before you, and has failed, and will fail. Because life echoes fiction, even more so than the writers, the simple minded drug that's given to thousands, and they only don't realise it's a drug because the tv refuses to tell them... no, lap it up, take in your conversation starters for tommorrow in the office, lay brain-dead in your insane knowledge that you have your life, and you couldn't be happier.
So to accept, that, my dear friend, is the last injustice of man... for acceptance destroys hope, acceptance destroys love, acceptance destroys all that could keep us from discovering that horrible flaw... that we believe life can be catagorised... and we believe that there is no other.
Supressed homosexuality reeks of thousands because they're stereotyped. People refuse to speak their mind for fear of being labelled... for fear of not being 'quite' as good at those that have gotten up, taken that deep breath, and told people who the damn hell they are.
And what happens then? Our clench fisted nation lays into THEM. For they have the courage to live through their life, as do we all, and for once they want to speak aloud, show the world who they are, and we sit back and comment that their hair is nice, or perhaps that she's put on weight.
All they want to do? Communicate. That's the savoir of our lives... the lasting detail that could save us all.
But no. We refuse to learn, we refuse to listen, to read, to see into the eyes of that boy that sits crying and ask him what the hell can we do. Human's are lonely because we're afraid of being judged by people who in the end are exactly the same as us. We are lonely because we refuse to communicate. We refuse to let people know WHO we are.
Your name is a label for the life you have led, your tastes are only a representation of how much of an escape you really need from this life, and your mind is only the carbon copy of everything you've been bought up to accept. And how wrong are you.
Because, the more you look at it, the deeper you see... we're all insane. Every last one of us. We spend money on books and films to make up for the fact we refuse to talk to people. We go to the gym so we can look like someone from the tv because we haven't the confidence to walk straight up to someone and tell them who we are, instead of who we could be if you concentrate hard enough.
We live in a world where generosity shocks us. We live in a world where if someone tells us we're a wonderful person, it hits us hard... why? Because we're so distant to people that speak their minds. We're so utterly flawed and we ACCEPT that there can be no other way. We'll all just talk about Big Brother... because we're happy.
Your hair is lovely, no matter how you put it up. Your voice is fantastic, even when you're not speaking. Your body is beautiful, because it's who you are. Your eyes speak to us more than your clothes ever could. Speak your mind, let the world know that you are here, let the world know that you're in love, let the world know that you're on a mission, you're having fun in life... You need alcohol to speak your mind? You need your drugs, your happiness, when all you need is the courage? The brisk courage to be YOURSELF. Stop hiding behind your six, seven, eight different personalities, and realise that they're ALL you.
And for that brief moment, everyone listened to a single man that spoke his mind. Nothing came of it, nothing ever will. Because to listen is one thing, to think is another, but to act, well, that's something not many of us know about.
But he spoke his mind, and it was a start.
It's pretty damn funny... and they say the insane ones now know... lets see if I'm hearing this right, you're telling me that they're insane? Why? Ever thought why so? What can they see that we can't? What do they know?
They're not insane, they just can't handle their truth. We lock them away because they're afraid to speak, they're afraid of letting the others know... become like them, for that would be selfish, they'll let us live in our frail light...
And so they'll sit smiling to themselves, wondering how long it's going to be again until once again they find out more. A seconds delay from the moment the fork hits the floor, and the click that occurs as he watches the faces... the pointless worry over a second, the hardly a ticking of a knife as it occurs most quietly in the huge shout that they know is life...
The key to insanity lies that you accept what you refuse to accept... the shouts heard over the small finger trails of life, stroking across a bare chest of nothingness... because you refuse to accept this world, but learn that it's the only one.
But how wrong are they... for they aren't insane, but simply the television watchers of the past and present, viewing life through a small glass screen, the window of a life that could never be, for all that could be stands before you, and has failed, and will fail. Because life echoes fiction, even more so than the writers, the simple minded drug that's given to thousands, and they only don't realise it's a drug because the tv refuses to tell them... no, lap it up, take in your conversation starters for tommorrow in the office, lay brain-dead in your insane knowledge that you have your life, and you couldn't be happier.
So to accept, that, my dear friend, is the last injustice of man... for acceptance destroys hope, acceptance destroys love, acceptance destroys all that could keep us from discovering that horrible flaw... that we believe life can be catagorised... and we believe that there is no other.
Supressed homosexuality reeks of thousands because they're stereotyped. People refuse to speak their mind for fear of being labelled... for fear of not being 'quite' as good at those that have gotten up, taken that deep breath, and told people who the damn hell they are.
And what happens then? Our clench fisted nation lays into THEM. For they have the courage to live through their life, as do we all, and for once they want to speak aloud, show the world who they are, and we sit back and comment that their hair is nice, or perhaps that she's put on weight.
All they want to do? Communicate. That's the savoir of our lives... the lasting detail that could save us all.
But no. We refuse to learn, we refuse to listen, to read, to see into the eyes of that boy that sits crying and ask him what the hell can we do. Human's are lonely because we're afraid of being judged by people who in the end are exactly the same as us. We are lonely because we refuse to communicate. We refuse to let people know WHO we are.
Your name is a label for the life you have led, your tastes are only a representation of how much of an escape you really need from this life, and your mind is only the carbon copy of everything you've been bought up to accept. And how wrong are you.
Because, the more you look at it, the deeper you see... we're all insane. Every last one of us. We spend money on books and films to make up for the fact we refuse to talk to people. We go to the gym so we can look like someone from the tv because we haven't the confidence to walk straight up to someone and tell them who we are, instead of who we could be if you concentrate hard enough.
We live in a world where generosity shocks us. We live in a world where if someone tells us we're a wonderful person, it hits us hard... why? Because we're so distant to people that speak their minds. We're so utterly flawed and we ACCEPT that there can be no other way. We'll all just talk about Big Brother... because we're happy.
Your hair is lovely, no matter how you put it up. Your voice is fantastic, even when you're not speaking. Your body is beautiful, because it's who you are. Your eyes speak to us more than your clothes ever could. Speak your mind, let the world know that you are here, let the world know that you're in love, let the world know that you're on a mission, you're having fun in life... You need alcohol to speak your mind? You need your drugs, your happiness, when all you need is the courage? The brisk courage to be YOURSELF. Stop hiding behind your six, seven, eight different personalities, and realise that they're ALL you.
And for that brief moment, everyone listened to a single man that spoke his mind. Nothing came of it, nothing ever will. Because to listen is one thing, to think is another, but to act, well, that's something not many of us know about.
But he spoke his mind, and it was a start.