The Tragedian's Decoupage

by Kai Straw

  • Streaming + Download




released May 18, 2011

Produced/Written/Performed by Kai Straw
[Unless otherwise noted]
Album Artwork by Travis Straw



all rights reserved


Kai Straw San Francisco, California

Click the banner to return to the homepage.

contact / help

Contact Kai Straw

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Track Name: A Collection of Recordings
I have this recurring thought of getting a revolver
and placing one bullet in the chamber as an offer
to fate, or a challenge, like "Here's my pound of flesh.
Take if my purpose is in death."
Then I'd record it, so you could hear fate's response
I'd either "bang" drop or "click" breath hard
[be]cause, you know, philosophies only go so far
It's words, words, words then tomorrow we're forgotten

"The world is very different now."
"The ballet or the bullet explains itself."
"Only when it is dark enough can you see the stars."

"I heard shots. And, I saw people crawling on the floor."
"The apostle of non-violence and the civil rights movement."
"He brought to the white house the vigor of youth."
"The bullet exploded in his face."

"..and I heard my husband say, everything is alright,
everything is alright."

- (In order of appearance) John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr., Betty Shabazz, Walter Cronkite
Track Name: Apotheosis
If I become someone else after this
trust me it wasn't by accident
and I don't mean my soul will change but
the way I'm perceived will go through changes
The Greeks once said
that in each sunset is a God that competes, some said
with the artist, and if that artist brought us
a painting of the sunset, does that mean he caught him?
And then he's viewed as more than a man is
[be]cause he caught a God with a brush and a canvas
and does that take a toll on the painter?
Did he catch a God or did God catch his paint brush?
Either way he's exalted
To an alter by the people, then he's brought to
a blasphemous status to the pastors
where he becomes a God to the masses

Is it the fate of an artist
To go from a man to be viewed as God is?
I understand Ebenezer, in front of a grave
wiping the frost off to reveal his name
Can destiny be tamed?
Or are we on tracks like whores or trains
[be]cause if my blood doesn’t run red
then it's me being painted as Apollo in your sunset
and the average man can't understand this
They'll view me like Atlantis, or ghosts in their pantry
I’m Poseidon worshipped by the leeches
[be]cause flow's violent, getcha seasick
Transformed by the essence of the art
Confused by man as a God,
I wonder if Jesus encouraged the distinction,
or if he was a man turned God once we deemed him

So the artist, the painter, the demi-God
Wished he never painted anything he saw
Psychologically it was wearing
Being thought of as a God when his flesh was apparent
So he burned all of his paintings
Heart racing
Lit a match to some gas in the basement
Started pacing, his house engorged
he locked the doors, plopped to the floor, heard the flames roar
They started licking his toes and then his knees
Then the pain ceased, and in the flame there was peace
He took a breath of his humanness, as tears rolled
down his burnt flesh, gone were his ear lobes
gone was his nose and then his lips
and his skin dripped off like the roads of a Venice trip
And this was it, his heart was right then,
feeling most human looking nothing like it
Track Name: Flower Child
See we're lost in the scope of things
A lost generation, a couple hopeless beings
with no care, what's to care for?
We're all werewolves eating up the nightlife
[be]cause life's unfair to
all of us, 'cept when the dollar come
wanna spring like the time before the summer come
Nothin' defines us but pints of liquor
and drunk pictures
anything to make the sun go down quicker
The moon's my sun
My home 'till the movers come
So come celebrate our pointless run
in this history of ours
their history is lies
let's burn it down, fuck it if our history dies
Let's start over, fuck it if religion exists
[be]cause then we'd stop fightin' over all the stupidest shit
And the truth is, man, you are what your mom was
How bout you are what you are, son
Talkin' 'bout

My God, this world it's so cold to me
We're high where the lows should be
Hopefully, we find where our hope could be
It's in I, my fate is mine
And I'm lost, but to me it's found

What makes me, is it the pointless war?
A shot that's poured to ignore the fact I'm alone
Should I join the corp [be]cause I don't got a desk job?
If my success stop, join what I'm a pest of?
Nah, rather be lost then a cost of
A war that's possibly fixed so my boss
gets money from the loss of my life when I fought
[be]cause I'm not a motherfuckin' soul to be bought
Should I, chase the dream that America's deemed as ours
with a white picket fence, wife, 2-door garage
Why? So I can lie and say I'm alright
with a life prescribed to quench my thirst for purpose?
My work on earth isn't about materialism
about your wallet or what's in your fuckin' purse or isn't
It's about now and what now is
Not the minute nor the day nor the hour


I may be lost but it's better than bein' lead
into a grown mold like a plant in a chia pet
We're lead by blind men
straight to confinement
Without prison walls, I use bars to define it
and expose, what's already there and imposed
'cept I use metaphors, poems and prose
some use bombs and napalm set to explode
either way, there's a motherfuckin' truth uphold
And they're watchin' all've us, lost in our youth,
we're used to accept their fuckin' views in school
and we're molded, from our generation to the oldest
into comatosis by those who oppose us
The other night I dreamt I fought behind a bike rack
Hung by my toes [be]cause I write raps
Then they asked me, we're the law, why you test us?
And I said, "Bitch, cuz I'm young and I'm restless", talkin' bout

Track Name: Delusionist Imaginarium
I pose a question
What's more evasive?
Love or the memory of dreams as we waken?
..and what's more feared than death?
What's two faced like a cheek to the mirror's edge?
So oppressive at it's end,
that it seems to be defying the obsession it begins
while the pessimist defends that it was never love
but this, in itself, could prove that it was
It coos at the barriers of sex
daring it to stifle the life within it's breadth
..yet crucified when assessed,
for at times, an enigma, it confuses and offends
pews in a church over two-sets of men
or the views of a congress on the age of consent
So I ask, what is this that's so mystic?
The last fantasy we accept, yet insist
What is love?

What is love?

Is it just another God for us
to dream into existence, like mirages of
crucifixions, Muhammads and Allahs,
to reclaim the sleep which our questions once robbed?
Is it a purpose? The lonely feel worthless,
so is this why we spend time searching to unearth it,
and those who can't find it receive it in their church,
like it's coming from a God if it won't from a person?
Oh, the tricks we insist upon,
to make magic seem like realistic thought,
it's like what's fictional or not
is defined by the comfort or distress it may cause

But is the question worth posing?
And If answered, could we find it for the lonely?
Then place it in a pill to deplete the "if only"s
that plague those who've loved or those who've never known it
The loveless, now is that just a sickness?
Waiting to be cured by a chemist in an instant?
A pestilence for those who are distant,
which symptoms are prayer for someone just to miss them
Or is it all just disappointing
like stars falling to the glow of a distant morning
made complex by it's witnesses,
like the dissection of simple arithmetic

What is love?

What is love?

I often wonder
what it's like to have your head in the clouds
I'd pay for this
delusionist imaginarium
Where love and God are like air and rocks
They'd brush my cheeks
and scrape my knees at least
Track Name: Duelism [sic]
When death's young like a blunt to the wind
Life's dark like the sky when the sun wasn't in
Like in a car crash, the kids all pass
Was it God or the devil causin' all that
Pause and solve that, tell me was it God or
the Devil in their alcohol takin' harbor
Or a martyr, killed for his beliefs
Was it God or the Devil that choked him in his sleep
See, I wrote God and the Devil wrote back
So I called for a demon and an angel showed up
Now when I make hits like I'm Sammie Sosa
Is it Jehovah? or Lucifer playin' poker
But I oppose that, me and God are kosher
but I got devil in my sleeve sayin', "So what
it's me in what I wrotcha", I think it's all good willed
Who knows, maybe it's the devil makin' moves still

I use water to bake my fire
I see truth in the speak of a liar
Is that the devil or God?

Dead men tell no tails full of bills
[Be]cause bills suck life, superstition of a still
Pissin' on a mill, [be]cause the devil's in the silk
of a man who lost to a handful of pills
But what if that man's death was a seed and it
Freed all the people who were victim to his greed
Was that God in a suicide?
Or just the devil doin' good, if he knew it or not
See, it all comes 'round like sex on a turn pike
Dark turns light when the moons bright
Who's right? Devil or God, man, it's all for a reason
You'd never like the weather if it never changed seasons
It's all for the good of things
Learn to tie a knot from trippin' on your shoe strings
Red'll turn green when your mood swings
Does it really matter what changed the color of your mood ring?


Would it be worth it if the world was perfect?
Would it make a chick take an apple from a serpent?
I assert that joy feels best after hurtin'
That's why a cut wrist is an escape for a person
An escape for a person, to vacate as person
Helps us love life when home base isn't workin'
It's a balance of hurting, lies and joyous evenings
You can't appreciate the health without the bleeding
Hell's perceived to give a reason for the heavenly
Just like a beat gives a reason for a melody
Green's for your celery, lies are for your newscast
Red's for your heartbeat, the truth is you'll lose that
So, live faster, time's an assassin
Life's a damn bully so stop livin' passive
Love life's bittersweet-ness from the vine
[be]cause you're still gonna age when you whine

Track Name: That Noise In Crowds
First, we begin in the womb,
then shoved through a crescent moon,
then loved in a fluorescent room
of Doctors, and blessings too
from Uncles and Aunties and
Gramps and Grannies who
say all the "awwhs" and "ooohs",
because they're envious of you,
and what a welcome to the gauntlet,
with a potential so monstrous,
this was your moment, ironic we can't recall it
But without a doubt, we were perfect at first
before we could, walk, sit or say words
[be]cause then a few years past 12,
self-consciousness develops
and compels some
to get a noose and put a note in an envelope,
kick the chair out, then jump,
and change their mind while in mid-air but then they're
an ornament, a chandelier, and become one of

So many people
So many people
One of
So many people
So many people

One of
So many people
who lost their soul
to this
game of actors,
directors and roles
to this
game of cards,
and decided to fold
and I can't tell you what they chose was wrong

Maybe death is gumdrops and heaven
But I'm not a reverend or a betting man

So we begin in the womb,
then shoved through a crescent moon,
then loved in a fluorescent room
of Doctors, and blessings too
from Uncles and Aunties to
Gramps and Grannies who
say the "awwhs" and "ooohs",
because they're envious of you,
then make it to
middle age with a job
and a house that's so gorgeous,
2 porches, orchids by your front doorstep
and you're with, a woman you've adored
for years and more than
anything you want to seem satisfied
with the boredom but you
can't, and it bleeds through your eyes
when you see your wife,
in the waiting room while your daughter gives life
to a baby who has many days left to become bored and depressed
so you're sitting there, fucking envious, as one of those


Then you'll end in a bed and soon
in a fluorescent room
of daughters and sons
of nieces and of your nephews
you'll part the planet
but before they'll want an answer
of what
to do with life if you could plan it
and then you'll tell them
I don't know
and no one does
regardless of what someone says
none of it makes much sense
so I guess I worship nothingness
But, I'd rather that said
here dying on my deathbed
Then me pretend I know more
from living longer than the next man
I'm still confused as shit
just satisfied in it
pacified by the fact that every man
will die and that
I'm not the only one who's gone
who's disappeared into the fog
I'm just another set of eyes that will
cease to see at all as one of

So many people, so many people
One of so many, many, many people

Track Name: Pope Charles
Tell me why
In the mind of the Pope you would see evil
and lead sheeple with lies and deceive people
Perceived peaceful, kind and believed feeble
But breed evil, disguised then decreed legal
Your creed's evil, judgement averted
If herded, the sheep become prey to the perverted
And you'll defend lions over lamb because they earned it
Say "they crossed the line"? Fucker, you blurred it
And you could give a shit less about some fuckin' witness
Kids just make shit up, that's what'll fix this
Wait, they're believin' em? Shit. well.
Why you got 'em bleedin' on your dick still?
Wash the shit off, I'm thinkin', sit still
We can lie and say God will forgive 'em
They gotta do what God says, at least most of 'em
And I'm hostin' em, I'll announce what we discussed
God can forgive him, so this kid must

"..Earlier this year the rind report laid bare the
physically and psychologically abusive regimes
operated by religious orders and state run institutions."

If I was lost
In the thoughts of a figure of the peace movement
I'd be soothing, calm, and lead the weak through it
I'd say, "Hello, my name is Charles,
you homeless? I got a place for you tomorrow.
Although, you can stay a while if you want to.
I'm all about peace, man, love, you should follow.
and do I got drugs? Yes. Of course. But I'm a bit short son.
Hey, whatever, it's love, you can't afford some?
Here's some for free. My best LSD.
And, man, I think you're lonely [be]cause the best left with me.
You should really come with us, and talk 'til dusk
And who you lookin' at? her? Man, she walks with us
So come chill, your real, it's in the way that you laugh
But I kinda got a favor to ask, we're gonna visit this ass
and this girl who get faker for cash, and
I'm all about the real man, the fake shouldn't last,
So here's a knife, here, take it. Wait. What? Are you fakin'?
I thought you were real, man, shit, look I'm not satan!
I'm a soldier for God, a soldier for peace
And all of these rich motherfuckers are just spawn of the beast
So come on, man

"In a scene described by one investigator as
reminiscent of a weird religious right, five persons,
including actress Sharon Tate, were found dead at
the home of Ms. Tate and her husband, screen
director Roman Polanski."

If I was peaceful, I'd dance in a war zone
And if I was evil I'd hide in the wardrobe of a good man
[Be]cause, that's where the lost search for answers
Suspect not a witch while in Kansas
So I would hide well
Disguise the truth like my lies will
You're thinkin' I'm the cleanest, but I'm sicker than your NyQuil
A trickster, blank mines trust [be]cause my lies plain
Seein' I'm a dove, but I'm a pigeon dipped in white paint
I've been to hell and back, Satan gave me pointers
Taught me how to be a king without bein' fuckin' appointed
I've avoided any motherfucker try to oust me
Why search for evil while your at a family outing?
Get it? Like why search for hours in a minute?
That wouldn't make sense, but that's why I'm in it
And I'll reign 'till infinite right under your nose
Just hope I don't poison your soul

"In the wild, it is survival of the fittest and often
the game is one by any animal who can remain unseen."
Track Name: Slaughterhouse
The night was ripe and I was pickin’ grapes off it,
taken off at like midnight, then I'd say softly
that it wouldn't be met with what normally bested
me, which be whiskey and weed but indeed
it did, and I was gone like a cough to a lozenger
Walked up in a house to 'em all doin' dollar hits (of coke)
while talking cognitive, rhetoric like philosopher's
about death, life, love, just pondering
Solvin' themselves these shells of truth
that they'll lose once their high's through,
and I guess that defines youth,
Then there's poets praying for plagues or bombs
so they'll have something more to write in essays or songs
[be]cause they're bored of war and can't do shit about politics
so get real fuckin' drunk and then imagine they can abolish it
But then they'll get old, and have some kids of their own
then those kids will say the same shit 'till their old
and it repeats over and over,
and watch the news - they're still
saying that the world's fucked and they've got it on film
Like, Yeah, kill, kill, kill, shit, did everybody die?
Double that, we need ratings, call it, umm, a genocide!
Then after a 2-hundred thousand dollar commercial,
we're shown kids blown to bits
in a country we've never heard of
then some have the nerve to comment like they know shit
sayin, "Oh, that's God punishing the heathens' indulgence"
and they believe it, because passion with a good voice
passes as fact to like half of those who hear the noise
So bon voyage and whatnot or whatever,
I'll sever ties with my senses forever
I'm so exisistential, and selfishly bitter,
like, look, take my rights but
leave me my liquor (Leave us our liquor!)

Then I see all these women wearing make up for the sake of
perfecting the face that appears when they wake up
and I wonder what it'd be like to live as a girl
where your face isn't good enough to show to the world
it's odd, a woman's life is a fashion show
and a guy's not a guy unless he's smashing those
and they say, we're all free in most ways
but what most don't calculate
is that we're slaves mostly to culture
giving ulcers to a kid who likes pink,
[be]cause when Daddy calls him faggot, he likes blue to be abiding,
or a girl who was lonely, and was forced to pretend
but then blew a bunch of dudes and had a room full of friends
then we're all Che 'til our youth runs out
a bunch of Bolsheviks, that conform somehow
I see kids pushin' world peace out their mouths
and to them I say, no, the world's a fuckin' slaughterhouse

We're all living on stolen roads
A peace sign's just fashionable
So I'll be sitting here
See you when you save the world
Or when you wake up and you save yourself
Track Name: Six Feet
I'm not a czar
I'm not a saint
Nor am I homeless
I'm not afar
Nor close
Nor content

I can't dream
or fall in love
I can't hope
for the best
as a small addition to the soil

I didn't get
the flowers
or the gifts
I didn't hear
your cried

But if one
thing is said
with no help
from a breath
it wouldn't say,
but it's state would confess..

I'm just another damn coffin
in another damn hole in the ground

I was young
I was brave
I was someone
I could love
I could feel
and express

But how could I have known
that what I felt was a loan
borrowed then returned
at it's

I would've been crass
or a nomad
I would've fought
for no one
but myself

And some may insist
to call me selfish
but in the end, all of us
are the same

Just another damn coffin
in another damn hole in the ground
Track Name: 28 Grams
Where's my soul?
I wanna behold it. For I never sold it
Is it in between my eyes where my skull is? Or is
it somewhere dormant, forged somewhere beyond the senses
For if we never learned to see it, then our mind will never sense it
But still, I ponder its inner workings, head off to church and
ask God where my soul is lurkin', and if responsive
he'd probably say the body's just a cockpit
and we're all goin' down like drunks when they're nauseous
But do fixes of substances help us find ourselves?
act as maps of our conscious-es?
or, to the honest, is this just an excuse
to get high above the lows that we're used to, instead of choosing death
and I'm not afraid of that, [be]cause it's all natural
like birth, but I wonder what was before this debacle
Before the womb, where did Kai loom, and whom
decided who or what body I'd bring to the tomb
Assume we were aloof before life
Just souls chillin', then wanted to get high feelin'
so we took some shit, 28 grams of it, then started trippin'
and this is what the damn trip is, a drug induced
illusion of movement and we'll wake up soon when
death strikes like it's bowlin' down the alley and the pins are losin'
So who's in charge of your mirage, what facade
do you decide to adopt upon you leaving your garage
[Be]cause all of us where masks and costumes
to try to be apart of
some clique or creed that we believe we belong to
But so long to it all and it's long overdue
I threw my mask away like I do when October's through
Is your soul so gross that it repulse you?
Donned a mask so the damn world can't assault you?
some say it's 21 grams, but I'll say it's 28
[be]cause souls are bought and sold like coke of the same weight

I saw the best minds of my generation
destroyed by madness
Starving, hysterical, naked
Angel headed hipsters
burning for the ancient heavenly connection
to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night
Who were expelled from the academies for crazy
and publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull
Who coward in unshaven rooms in underwear
burning their money in wastebaskets
and listening to the terror through the wall
- [Excerpts from "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg]

As I sit and ponder livin' death
smokin' cigarettes, I wonder if
my shit's hot like a summer trip, but I'm done with it
Expectations can suck dick, that's some punk shit
If I cared than my art couldn't function
People care too much, giving two fucks
about thumb suckers' opinions, when they matter none
We are who we are, victims of fates hands
You're trippin' 'bout race when all our souls are 28 grams
Love can never do what hate can, so hey cool kid,
hate society and not the man that it made foolish
That it made ghoulish, we're products of a system
but I taught you to resist 'em, so reject your papa's wisdom,
[be]cause this a new age, like your birthday at midnight
where knives are at fist fights and truth's insight
lacks from most windpipes, but we sit tight while
women get exploited for the point of sellin' shit for coins and dollars
And all this, honest, is darkness that's upon us
Rights gone [be]cause we fear some terrorists might bomb us?
Well, that's fear mongerin', used by the news
to make us feel scared of somethin' when we're 10 years removed
[Be]cause if it's comin' from the people we love
Then all the sudden their motherfuckin' opinion is ours
Like actors plaster their views when broadcastin'
then, followed by the masses, their vote is what we're all castin'
But the fact is, most are selfish asses
passive, won't give a coin to the dude crashin' where the trash is
But for fashion? They'll spend a grand on some damn shoes
Sayin' the homeless will waste it, well shit, look at you
and shit's true, so who will look past their pupils and cataracts
and change shit like a laxative after this,
Become the proactive activist with the innate chance
That you could die fightin' for your 28 grams
Track Name: in Salsola
I stay on the ground
disregarded for the way I are
I see those in the sky
I see the bottoms of their feel, their soles
They made him hate who he was
He tried to climb to prove his worth
But his shortness of breath
At the top made him slip and then
he fell away from all their
lonely cold embrace
He fell so long and found
in his home, in his own space
That he was highly satisfied
highly satisfied tumbling his way down

Another made to serve
In heaven but hoped to reign on earth
A morning star could fall
if it wished it so
It was stuck in the sky
Wished to fall, this meteorite
So he tore his way
out of space, and who watched would say
He fell away from all His
lonely cold embrace
He fell so long ago
from the hold of proposed grace
and he was highly satisfied
Highly satisfied tumbling his way down

We'll fall from the peak
Or we already have
Been chased to a darker place
All watching it crack
We're watching it end
This construct that we've made
While most of us crawl
for what we were, some embrace the fall
And walk away from all we've done
and what we've made
We'll fall not long from now
from the comfort of this place
And we'll be highly satisfied
highly satisfied tumbling our way down
Track Name: Pinocchio: A Soliloquy
I wonder what's around me actually
If it's all just coding passively
Controlling everywhere I'm going
Directing everything I'm knowing
If my muscles move [be]cause they want them to
And I'm tricked to think what I saw them do
Was my own move in this game of chess
When it's really them who's playing us
So I wanna have God in my veins
[be]cause I heard she saves
If this a game, I don't care to win
I'm not a hero, man, but she's a heroine
I wanna die free
Sent to heaven with a needle stuck inside me
Fuck an I.V., let my mind bleed, I be
auctioning my soul so God won't find me
I'll do blow with a broad
crack is a God, heaven's in a bag in the car
white lighter heathens
bringing bad luck to my fire breathin'
I wanna be gone
But gone is a term
Gone is a word
puts pawns in an urn
we're all gonna burn
and we're all gonna die
So let me get high, skip the stars in the sky
And I'll head to fuckin' heaven, take God for a ride, take God for a ride
I need a fuckin' dollar, sell my car and my pride,
car and my house and my clothes
sell my fuckin' kid if my spouse didn't know
Spouse didn't know that the house forclosin'
Clouds in my home, [be]cause my mouth still frozen
I've been chosen, finally I belong
So I ain't gonna move 'till I see God

"This sort of thing has cropped up before,
and it has always been due to human error."

See, life's just a puppet show
And fate's just a clever puppeteer
So I wanna get high above the strings in the ceiling
Check for the seams in my skin when it's peelin'
[be]cause I know I'm fake and nothing exists
I could rip my face off, replace it with a cyst
Then I wouldn't see shit,
Except for the thoughts in my mind
And I'd reinvent colors, and reinvent time
I'd be God and Adam and eve
and the wind combating the trees
would be patterns of me
But the home I think
Is a product of the puppet strings
And they find it amusing
That a pawn believes he's choosing
That a pawn believes in freewill
Like he chose the shoes his feet fill
I didn't choose these, I was forced in 'em
coerced like a porcelain doll who was molded in
a world to be
and I have to break so my soul can leave

I find my freedom in sock drawers
And it's not my fault
I'm just a puppet and they're playing with me
We're not in control
We're just part of a show
So shoot me higher

Gettin' higher now
I see my body below
And everyone's cryin'
My mom's in my house
and my eyes look dead, [be]cause my soul's comin' out
They gave us dreams as the escape
out of this game we're forced to play
And drugs were made
to force the dream on restless days
So bless the weeks when I could
sleep and dream in peace
[be]cause now I cease to exist
I plead to God to let me live
for the puppets in our hopeless fate
I love them more, then the show I hate
So let me go, tie the strings back on
I'd rather be a pawn than pass alone
Track Name: I Bring A Life Of That.. To An End
I want to say so much,
but sometimes words aren't enough,
sometimes our tongues can't dance or tap
a rhythm that can express all that's within them
for at times, in a word can live
not just a thought, but a metropolis
and if not magnified, they're dismissed
as just vowels grouped with consanants,


I’m not a simple person, but I don’t think anyone is,
an ant constructs a labyrinth without ever really knowing it,
and a spider forgets it’s artistry, and it’s the one who’s sewing it
So here’s to not knowing the supposed growing vastness
and being one of many ants, victim of death and taxes,
and to the tapestry likely sewn due to all of the actions
of us people, and being fine without some purposes to back them

See, I feel cursed at times,
cursed as the disconnected,
it’s as if, to my own life, I must remain objective
Like every frame, of every second, dancing across my eyes
are just that, a show, and to my soul they’re merely televised
And I’m stuck in this theater of the senses and cognition
forced to view this life pass, like a projector full of pictures
I want to fall in love, feel some connection with another soul
but maybe in another life, I think, if ever at all

There’s so much shame involved in everything I’ve done
they say mistakes make you who you are, but, I liked who I was
So here’s to the future, and here’s to you
maybe you can learn from what I’ve done in this pathetic human suit

But, maybe, with a chance,
We’ll begin again
Track Name: Hangman
May rain pour
and bring me outside my home
To chase hurricanes and boast
That I've seen eyes inside these foes
of planes, champagne and roads
That I decline my life as some simple insult
To time

So here's the melody, I'm Jericho

Now, if it's treasonous to wreck these walls then
Hang me too
I'll pay my dues
I'd rather hang here from my head and neck than
live inside abused
So tie the noose

May lakes overflow
And may I sail my house, and float
through states, like a freight of coal
and change the home I call my own
to just my skin and bones
and as escaping, watch myself unfold
Like all those stories we're told
or those we wrote
while wishing for something more

Or I will just fly away

And yeah, it's treasonous to wreck these walls and
they'll hang you too
in plain view
But we'll be hanging there, all caught up in the end,
As slaves to who?
The hangman knew

If they let me drop
They'll envy how free I've become