There’s a spell on our home
Yes, why isn’t there a cut path for us to follow
Why do the good things seem good to some?
And blinding, crushing, painful to those who need it the most
Why are the bad things full of ecstasy, why does curiosity kill cats?
Why does beauty have to be so complex, why do little things matter the most
Why does freedom have its chains and the free still slave
Why does hair have an attitude
Some fall gently, others never behave
What’s it about charisma that makes it so magnetic
Why does its holder make others do the most absurd things?
Sometimes it’s actions make it seem pathetic
Like murdering to free torn places
Why does sacrifice have its rules
Why can’t we say up yours
And burn it all
Why does our blood boil
When war sounds its call
What is so sweet about hope that makes us wake up to face the day
Why is it so bitter that millions turn away at the mention of its taste?
What the hell does it mean to face the day
When the sun meets your eyes, we all still look away
How does it feel like to embrace the beauty of night?
How come darkness always gives the most invigorating thrall
How come following the crowd feels so ecstatic
Even when the crowd doesn’t know the way
What does fashion mean today?
Men are hailed for the little they wear
Women are praised for the little they leave and the more they put on
Why can’t blades reach into souls, mine needs a shave
Who can do this properly, what does he need, I’d pay
Why can’t I fix my heart with impenetrable clay?
My face isn’t a bag of sand
When I’m hit I definitely break
Why do words cut, but leave no scars to be?
Shakespeare got that ‘sticks and stones” line wrong you see
Why do we talk to a God who doesn’t talk back, at least when our problems get to breaking?
Are our prayers kept in boxes, for when he wills to get to sorting?
If I could get the wizard that poured the potion
That lets my mind undergo this haphazard motion
I’d ram a blade in his eye, I’ll crush his bottles to dust
And set his grimoires alight, I should make the flames big enough to engulf
So that the world feels the heat of hate he spread in those early days
Maybe if the people stare into hatred’s eyes long enough they’d turn, leave him well alone
They learn the little guy isn’t stone, blood flows through his veins
Doubt that, they’d probably put him on this shoulder and organise a parade
Douse him in jokes and tirades, then set him unto a fiery blaze
Like they’ve done time and time again
Oh!!¡… here I’ve gone and lost myself again,
Ignore me, it’s the voices talking again
Guess the fire should get to my mind this time, whose flint can light that
Now that would cost the world, a price I’d love to pay
But then, when it’s lost who’s gonna play, the voices might never stir again
And I really need some company
But that’s all it comes to, isn’t it?
Whether we can or can’t let go
None is similar, yet we all seek perfection
The perfect image is single, but sameness is abhorrent
That mage really got me good, indecision imprisons us all
But for now my mind had closed its doors, so get out
Before you have no choice