Some secrets you never can tell cuz the truth will reveal your lies i'd gotten so sick of myself that i had to close my eyes then i took a fresh look
Relax / forget the reasons why you're afraid let it go / it's the only way to rest your head in this bed you made now look what i've done to you i am
I've been living in a picture frame i've been dreaming, screaming out your name i've been scraping, trying to make up the rent busy searching for some
It's a familiar scene you're standing silent i'm starting to shout i'm sick of this routine just say what you mean why don't you ever let it out? but
the extremes of sacred and secular He's more concerned whether you're saved or irregular And if your life is standing perpendicular And if your extra-curricular life pattern
judges to judge just hashing out contingents with your ghost the meaning-well, misguided talking shit committee gathers when their tragedy ignites a fire: dormant, weeping, battered and the pattern
will make it worse So, I stopped interfering I'm a tragic hero In this game called life My chances go to zero I always will survive I'm a tragic hero
, bliss in all sorrows found Rhythms and random moves and waves of adorations Patterns I'm finding As pain and joy and sorrow mingle Patterns we're finding
We idolize and exonerate the statues of barbarians and henchmen and why and how we must pattern ourselves to be such men Who is the hero? Who is the scapegoat
fodder, don't mean to bother nobody But Cupid's automatic, musta fired multiple shots at her Because she fall in love too often, that's what the matter At least I'm talkin' about it, keep my pattern
tracks, hors, comas, and cardiacs Broads and cats screaming "Oh my God he's back" Just imagine, I hit the lab and get it crackin' A thousand styles in one verse, rhythms will switch patterns
From the Arizona desert to the Salisbury Plain Lights on the horizon patterns on the grain Anxious eyes turned upward clutching souvenirs Carrying our
(don henley/stan lynch) From the arizona desert To the salisbury plain Lights on the horizon Patterns on the grain Anxious eyes turned upward Clutching
cosmic master Gwar constantly schemes For a way to escape Earth, realize their twisted dreams Old men fly into space, Gwar cannot This re-occuring pattern
