The high life – soon as a mild-mannered enthusiasm carries with it just one such high-octane plan
To set conscientious fire, thrillingly con-figurative flame to the third bar, by the earth-shattering break of the quake of a noose-cut-loose early-a.m.
When it lends itself to endlessly fending…
To a coffee-swilling, pink pill-popping, paramilitary and eagle-eyed industry all on its own, homegrown, -blown to fuse and to suffice whilst to markedly confuse
Refuses to wane til constanced by beautiful – loses himself midst mesmerised amalgamation, the artist’s gain-lessly gainful gaining
Pen, paper, and assume to think… and one man spills his ceaselessly expressive thoughts and at train-wrecking pace
Between these meandering and hostilised socialised lines the crying man’s breath catches itself again, say when
Threading on the brink of extinct
Boredom abounds and he finds her tired eyes again, aligned right by the original line
Can’t keep these feelings in disguise… perfect and paralysed
To be driven to bleed right by the unstoppable bleed, no less gentrified
Is it all of it really lent to figuratively speaking, though… and to feed these concentrated reader’s inundated by time plied aside creative reckonings
Call it collateral damage
And sing it, no less blessed by the fighting light..
An upside-down, broke-down violin plays to its tune equally well, just a little less invested to the paused cause
And these strings are red ribbons – begging to steal, recklessly real
Shrink and you will indeed miss it
Free these deceptive demons, please… and witness to sizeably see the fear take smouldering, soldiering hold
The low-life, soon as gut-wrenching inadequacy carries with it just one such pedestrian plan – too slow for the yo-yo to fold
Something altogether manic and monstrously meaningful, captured and fed by his very own living, breathing, these oft than not seething Mother Nature intricacies vindicated til comfortably vilified by rhymed time
No stranger to these fictional white-lies
He’s unreliable, he’s evasive… he’s an artist
The all-or-nothing summarise
And the tracks match the sparks for magnificence – we, all of us, imagine dragons just some far greater than others
