die a King in your fantasy.

I don’t want to be a burden

I just wanna sit here and read.

So if that’s ok

then the band can play

I’ll look up a couple times to see.

Everyone who’s silently cursing

checking out the latest feed.

There’s someone I knew

from another life

I look away so they don’t notice me.

It’s a living, a hard living

the barista says while pouring cream

a couple swirls and a twist

now there’s a swan swimming in my drink.

Guess I never really felt like drowning

I just swam in this misery.

I guess I can’t complain

I made my bed

skipped my prayers

now I’m counting sheep.

Guess I never really felt like dying

just romanticized how life could be

it’s like a game of chess

you protect the Queen

and die a King in your fantasy.

Cause it’s a living, a hard living

it could be worse is a common phrase

a couple riffs then applause

now the band packs their noise and leaves.

If I have to take a vow of silence

plead the fifth in double time.

With all due respect

I think I must confess

I cracked up like a nursery rhyme.

Still I can’t sing that song without crying

so whatever shall be shall be.

I guess the world’s the same

rinse repeat complain

the punch line never hit with me.

So if you’re living, a hard living

here’s raising this glass to you

and if you’re worried, don’t worry

there’s bound to be an answer soon.

Cause baby I don’t wanna be a burden

I just want to write my poetry.

Because I’m not a rock

or an island but

ain’t that the only way to be free.

Drunk in Cyberspace.

Everything, I wanted to do,
slowly drifts away.

Clicking here, now clicking there,
it all just looks the same.

An endless maze, of travesty,
piles on each page.

But I don’t have, the guts or tact
or sincerity to look away.

And each time that, I tell myself
tomorrow’s another day.

The calendar, it flips and turns,
yet I just stay the same.

Consciously, predicting that
in sunlight I will change.

Then by the moon, retracting that
I’m drunk in cyberspace.

If nothing really mattered
then I guess
nothing really matters
and so if nothing really matters…
Then why the hell do I keep on trying to explain?
Why the hell do I keep on
this way?

They tell me thanks, rinse and repeat
all I can do is laugh.

There was a time, when I was sure
there seemed, some way back.

A charlatan, a debutante,
perfection on a screen.

Deeper in, still deeper now
a web of misery.

And by the time, I’ve had my fill
and walking on a cloud.

The city lights, extinguished by
eyelids that do bow.

It’s not a curse or act of God,
that craves some kind of change.

But the terror dreams of darkness,
while drunk in cyberspace.

The cure, the cure is quite simple
the cure, the cure is quite simple
the cure, the cure is quite simple…

But.