2005-03-15 - 10:12 p.m.
Sewers of Our City
I've sat in the bellies of beasts
in the bellows of ugly organs
Lived in the sewers of my own city
one that makes claims it once knew me.
But the city lies in incorrect static perceptions.
Misaligned connect-the-dots and vague projections.
I will set the story straight. Few things are so worth such straightening.
My story is one such thing.
I have never soaked up the limelight with any of my truth
never screamed words with conviction.
So I hid like a ghost awaiting conviction
for a trial that took place years ago.
I was freeze-framed at my infancy
spoke too soon and with greed
Now all the music that passes through
all of it haunts me.
There is judgment that has been made
Never a jury near a clean slate.
So in the absence of structure or friends
I begun to dig in.
Tried to carve something with construct
Erasure of all that I was once.
My god, to defile one's existence is terrifying
because the result will rest
not on shoulders of giants
but the same hushed collection of absentee eye-ins
The same ones that started all of this
The ones who'll determine Solid-Gold or crucifix
for my ultimate fate.
So I'll shape and shape
my restless days and hollow nights
until I have a heart that is legible
to more than one or two kind ears and only every few years at that.
The acceptance I seek to gain is for reasons
of contribution.
Because to remain a part of nothing bigger than myself;
to stay a thin ghost in my own hometown.
just isn't right. Not right at all.
There wasn't a fair fight, not even a fair fall.
What I have dug up may be simple, still it is something
worth my heros hearing.
A sentence or melody to cure the rejective disease that keeps me
hiding in the sewers of my own city.
