i feel like a spaceman
a displaced alien in a wasteland
base plan
looking for a face, trying to trace man

it's not rocket science
with the fights, riots, and sights of violence
i'd give my right eye for some silence
i'm finding this place never quiets
no kindness, or signs of subsidence
relying on small minded diets
no compliance, alliance, or guidance
few ever try to defy the tyrants

i feel like a spaceman
a displaced alien in a wasteland
base plan
looking for a trace, trying to face man

Rap out a rhythm of hope,
Sing me a song of despair,
Write a book of confessions,
Let laughter ring through the air,
Show the world your pictures,
Give them a taste of your words,
Let them drift toward you,
Carrying their stories- pain and mirth

However long the wait,
Whichever path you take,
Whatever breaks your heart,
Whosever heart you break
Let it always bring forth art, expression and form,
The age old remedy for the suffering and forlorn,
     Some say an artist must struggle, and sing songs of their hurt,
I say each individual feels the need to be heard

  So let's sing out our stories,
And adorn our walls,
With paintings in tribute,
Bearing witness to all
There’s no right and no wrong
When you’re sketching a song,
Painting a poem, or dancing along!

i dreamed a vortex
a rotating Shangri-la
full of light and life
all lush and green and blooming
it opened up beside me
and looking down in rapture
I smiled, then leapt right in

I have heard
that sand exfoliates
and that water cleanses
I have felt the pain
of scraping rocks against my skin
To rid myself of me
To remove the history
off of my fingertips
Who I am
hates the person I have been
though I liked the thought of myself
In your arms
Some nights I stay up and cry
hoping the tears will make me an ocean
to drown all the memories
and the salt will rub against me
Like a snake
I will shed my skin
and soon forget the
warmth of your touch
In 7 years
I will not find
a speck of you on me