I've got these ideas I've never shared with another soul,
and that's because I don't believe
anyone of you
has one.
And neither do I.
Listen; I have a secret-weapon
and I don't wave it around like a flag
because it's no weapon of mass destruction
but it builds as it breaks,
kills as it makes,
until it seems like it's always been here.
I have a gun that I keep under my pillow
so that I never dream my life away
thinking there are places I'm safe from myself.
This body is not a temple nor a sanctuary,
but a breathing cataclysm; an event
that will either fade into anonymity
like the history of all those who tried and failed
or haunt generations of skeptics until the day
reality is read like stone.
The deluge awaits me.
Been bottlin' emotions for so long,
love and hate tastes less like whiskey
and more like kerosene, spilling it over the edges
of right and wrong, dusk and dawn
until I cast shadows, blurred as truth,
with every step away from the sun.
I'm heading for something great -
I've got a secret weapon and I'm cleaning the dust off
so that my aim is true and my heart is pure
so that no one gets hurts and everyone saves themself
but I can't save myself.
No, I can't find anything worth saving.
And I don't mean to talk so much about myself
without saying who I am, but
the message is in the medium
and the soul within the vessel
so I'll let my work speak for itself
at the expense of being remembered as just another man
with a story to tell and a life to live.
You don't know who I am, and it's better that way
when the day comes that I finally see what I am
eye-to-eye,
Narcissus to reflection,
love to hate,
choice to fate
and whether there is within that pool of reflection
something
anything
I can call a soul.