the crowbar of tryth

looks like i'm on the wrong side of the tracks now
honest about my agenda too many times with too many people
made friends with too many locals who think they're "healthy"
well what'd you expect, networking into mass delusion
or is it all some elaborate metaphor, to shield me from
the diagnosis that would shatter my delicate psyche
"sickness" i can handle, slash and burn the dead cells
pry them off the brittle bones, admit defeat
even a self-inflicted pseudo-sickness like addiction
but the pathetic, needy, weakness of my core
personality, no, say it ain't so, foam-cover your clubs with
metaphors and vague language so i can live on in sickness, yeah

i talk about drugs
too much - yeah i do them too much
it's a sickness

but you know what? it's a part of life
we're never gonna be completely healthy
life is grimy and germy and shit happens
and people get fucked up
and societies get fucked up
and stay that way, until
the load bearing structures collapse
and the next prophet comes back with a new set of stone tablets
new taboos, the necessity of slavery, the wisdom
of keeping the sabbath holy that we hope our descendants won't forget

i'm trying to get better
today is another day - i've got tape on my thumbs
tattoos on my hands

i think i need to up my dose of zoloft
yeah, i couldn't sustain that lifestyle
oh, those pills made a heroic effort
but they couldn't counterbalance the weight of hedonism
ill conceived plans, promiscuous social networking, an excess of trust

so begins the era of paranoia, over-correction for betrayal
sunshine and lollipops but no rainbows