The Priziest Horse

i'm not the priziest horse or the classiest fighter
with shattered glass in my voice,
writing my name on the wall with the fingers my highschool gave me; i'm still
counting electric sheep at night, in love with an electric blanket,
in fact i make love with electric outlets.
in my sleep, it's all flying pigs and things that want me dead;
when i'm awake, it isn't much different. it's not them versus us,
the battle wages over future addictions.
something's missing, and i can't quite focus on it.
oh, it must be the disappearing act we all put with our dreams.
they'll never find me as long as i keep smudging off into the background.
and continue to sink through the sidewalk with my head under a bench, to see
who hears me, narrating their lives by the way they hold their money so tight,
so they could send their kids off, but the best historians sleep on benches.
(why is everybody sleeping on benches?)
i've been a rock as long as i've lived
since everything has to be a nobel prize winner.
i should've quit when i saved the ozone.
i should have known if i can't feel the ones i came with, it's a good time to rest,
and hold fear at bay like some hold the margins they need to survive in.
barely alive, and you want me to lighten up?
make an angel on the beach or pick a boquet in your garden.
call me when they drop redemption upon you like a piano,
record the noise it makes when it flattens your hands.
then you realize it was only a dream and you were tied to a tree the whole time,
watching friends drag by 'cause they can't look at the scars under your eyes.
burned to hell covered by locusts, they're trying to quote us
now that they finally broke us into ridiculous names and meaningless titles.
i won't forget, the little things escape,
through the pores in my skin so i can pour it on thick.
and watch them scurry to escape the glass, leave the collection,
and have a life of their own, well get rich you'll hate it too...
i promise...

chorus:
in this life all i have, a falling sky in my arms,
it's not that heavy, make pretend
it's someone else's party, what a gas.

shaking the hands that never trembles and always land on my feet.
at this present elevation, i can't see past my feet,
between god's bald spots where the sky stops.
i'm one of the earth's latest gallstones,
despite all the america going on, it's all rome.
go get unstuck, don't lose sleep 'til you cant find solace
in the fact that you can barely control yourself. let alone,
we're all tied down; since our wings got clipped, and lately can't sing enough.
in the party that never ends, 'cause no one knows how to clean up the mess.
what's up with all the gags?
everyone around me has these holes drilled through 'em,
and someone on the other side is trying to figure it out. dying to be someone,
killing to be recognized as something that you're not.
well since we're all so into introductions, don't forget your names.
since you love yourself so much, keep it away from me.
'cause i've baked under artificial lights with artificial girls,
and that sinking feeling there's someone sleeping inside my sleepless body.
quit playing kid games with your old tongue
'til you can find someone to buy future epiphanies from. here's one:
i live in the city and leave everything alone, yesterday it was all tv.
after all is said and done, we barely have memories,
so i write what i feel, sue me if it's empty.
imagine that, i'm barely human, i'm barely human...

chorus