When the crisis fades,
you decide the pain
was passion, try to replace
abstractions with a defined shape.
But your whole life has changed;
it's night and day,
so science-based inquiry strains
under the weight of your blind faith,
like: even if you don't like it, may-
be somehow you invite it — hey,
man, listen. That’s just the cost
of doin' business. So you're a little lost,
All I'm trying to say is:
So little truth survives the lathe
of doubt, compared to the lies that make
it out. “Everything's fine.” “We'll be safe.”
And "I'm OK."
You oughta read
"The Diamond Lane."
go buy it today.
It's about fatigue
and the price of fame,
and the reasons why things change.
If the answers were always the same
All you could do is get the hell away,
They say trauma gets tied to a place
so picture it as a weight, not an indelible stain.
This feels like a mistake.
I know how it feels
cause it happened to may.
It's all so surreal
and bafflingly strange.
A grueling ordeal.
But the fact remains
that you are a basketcase.
Let it flow through you
It'll rinse off ya
Faith is like voodoo
Wisdom is stronger
If you live through it
you'll end up where you're needed.
Even though the truth is
There's nothing you believe in
as much as you've tried,
and thought, and prayed.
It's tough on your pride,
but you're not to blame.
There's nothing but time,
and talk, and space under the
razor sharp blade
of the lathe
You could do worse
You can't wait forever
who's so risk averse
has a taste for adventure.
In a race to the center
where the tables never turn
what's an advantage?
Take what you've learned
at the church and the theater
to management. Cause the fact is
The panjandrums'll come for you
the second it's a viable option.
Change is uncomfortable,
for sure, but what a reliable constant!
With patience and the right moves,
you could cast away the monster
standing right beside you,
instead you barricade the office
and demand a guarantee
that you'll be freed from greed and jealousy.
Well allow me a buried lede:
You aren't completely helpless! See,
you free to be unashamed,
overeager and selfish. But
no lathe only cuts one way; all
these loose threads will be dealt with.
If what's protecting you
lets nothing through,
then what's the use?
To hell with your roof!
Tell me the truth:
what's left to lose?
For everyone but you,
This shelter is a tomb.
And like they always do,
they'll problematize the shock of the new.
But there is just no telling who's
behind what you have gotten in to.
The rumors are humorless,
all promises, no follow through.
Yet for all our brutalist intrusiveness,
we're still not bomb-proof.