| Fake How perfectly happy everyone seems How sad and morbid they claim to be yet rape and murder make up their seams and rich families, respectively |
| To PreServe Sprinkles ammassed around me clinging and bonding together forming perfect half-circles growing larger together All surrounding me So pretty to look at they bend the light I see Almost makes me forget they're all against me I must preserve the fabrics and chips and shoes that be Sacrifice my life; yes use all the silica inside of me never occoured to me however Maybe they're not against me What if ... i'm the only enemy? |
| All work done by Erik Espinoza |
| Libro Wake up to the life I chose for myself Feeling refreshed, but not quite right A book's missing from my bookshelf. The one I believed was my favorite, my most cherished Now gone. A rare book, One I tried hard to possess How long has it been since it disappeared? Weeks, months, years, its anyone's guess. Sitting and thinking, where it could be, I stop and I realize, I memorized the whole thing I read it, loved it, but obviously didn't love me A great experience, and from it I learned a great deal But now, I see it's useless to look for it now. |
| Track Choo-Choo, there I go, Wearing away with every gear's row, From the start I believed myself to be a motorcar Free to choose, travel as far as donde esta el mar Keeping my head up Avoiding the tar Choo-Choo, there I am, Guillible, One set for any scam Anything is possible, everything is feasible I want to be great, and loved, isn't that reasonable? relaxing a bit lazy is what i am. Choo-Choo, there I be relying on cruise control, you see? The machine knows what it's doing, models before it knew But little did I know, a track was what it led me to no more free choices only one not two Choo-choo, there I was my future in the indifferent jaws between those rails, thought this car's instincts won't lead me astray Then a coach came behind me, I don't want this! Go away! I realized it's mine Freedom has a clause |
| Gold and Fire Melted snow travels the forest floor and leaves of gold and fire pack onto mud keep the clear life around a bit more so puddles get deeper trying to flood In time, the lifesource drains in some places leaving a frecked, naked landscape The trees, expecting a brutal reflection of their bare faces see themselves, and their flame and shine has not escaped Gold and fire, it seems, time never erases. |
| Caterpillars that don't change are worms. |
| Picking Up Strays I have a self-destructive habit I love to pick up strays a bitter dog or jumpy rabbit altruism displays I provide them a prominent feast Love, provide, and shelter The men ask 'Why do you feed sad beasts?' I think over and swelter I must love seeing paradigms shift A cynic turned hopeful To make one happy, a selfless gift Or selfish handful? I give them all I have with knowledge of their backwards nature by aiding you, myself I'll salvage CRAZY, One's conjecture I suppose I want love in return One who believes I'm good To help me forget my life's concerns and flaws, burn like firewood Bliss, like all things earthound, promtly ends They go back to bad homes Sorrowful, not cynical, I mend And soon, with a new can of ALPO I resume, picking up strays. |
| Weekends at Oki The weekend's here lets drink some beer We'll stay up late and celibrate A hard weeks work as another approaches Lets forget the stress and barracks roaches We'll drink Baccardi and lemonade Stare, half-drunk during the serenade that reminds us of a life before, before we're lifeless on the floor We'll talk of girlfriends and fiancees relationships and great ass lays And to save ourselves some face, forget to say how they decay throughout each passing day |