I'm at my best on the verge of total breakdown,
With a bullet proof vest on and holes in the brain.
Put to test long days amazed by these Lego legs,
Holding together and keeping in place my storage space.
Every memory ever and the Everglades of daydreams I chase,
In bed talking to God, face to face. Yes, and guess what?
God said it doesn't like your race, or religion. He's...
Sick of your smells, your sounds, and your visions...
Your country's divisions and war, your missions,
What is more, she's sick of your gigantic prisons and...
Department stores with signs, "For Sale - Ammunition"!
In addition, the tradition of submission to superstition, it's sick to the
core.
God told me everyone is going to die... and that, they do not feel sorry for.
Everything you have been given expires. Why are you surprised?
Go out and buy new wagon tires, aspire to be admired by the eyes,
Then take off your disguise.
Ah, the applause and adulation. It's big in size.
Hurry quick! Turn it to your local news station!
Watch them revise their hurricanes with pies.
Forecasting rain in your future. Covering lies,
With sunny days in the Everglades of fame.
Let's
All
Love
Lain.
Get on our pray and knees. Just joking.
Say "Blehshu" when you sneeze and,
"Are you okay?", when we cough,
Just in case your choking.
Could it be a good cough?
Is it all the same?
Someone will always complain when nothing is wrong.
In the place that everyone wants to be and wondering where they belong.
The sun came and the rain has gone.
Offer my storage space the privilege of the floor. Give away your wealth.
Ah, the allure of total breakdown and the glimmer of good health.
Word to the wise... explore the stealth walk of truth as you,
Sleuth around the play ground hunting something renowned,
With little rapport, yet to be found and hard to ignore.
I choose to be contradictory and odd, to...
Have pretend friends and go on unnoticed.
I owe this all to God. For she sends the dream.
With it I am, we are, it is, The Creator, The Architect, Collective and Supreme.
Lain does not exist, nor do my ideas, but without what is left would there
be any of the above?
God does not exist, he told me so it's self, and cannot speak again. From
within I feel the love.
All
Hail
Bob