You got the potion yea you really do
Make everybody fall in love with you
Call me your lover
Call me another
All I hear are lies from you
They’re throwing stones and you’re feeling bad
That’s what happens though, when you make so many fall in love with you. Those that refuse to fall to your siren call stand self-made outcasts, from your circle of enticement. Jealousy, fear, misunderstanding – these are all things that lack of love breeds. But you call me your lover, and I call you mine. First under the hidden cover of night. Sneaking through back alleys, up decrepit stair cases, down a hallway of oxymorons – glitter strewn yet dingy, vibrating from the volume below but all I hear is my heart thudding in my ears, that classic act of doing wrong but having it feel so good. It’s the perfect setting for stones to be thrown, and to be cast aside. Once you open that door, and waxy yellow light spills out lies or truths, it doesn’t matter what spills from your lips. It’s always an indecipherable combination. And right now, playing lie detector is the last thing on my mind.
Would you come with me?
Oh I want you to come with me
‘Cus I can’t do this alone
First you ask if I’ll come with you. Then you tell me that you want me to. Then you beg for me to. The hunger in your movements match the increasing aggression in your voice. The truth is that you can do it alone, you’ve done it countless times before but it’s just so much better with another. It’s unclear what the real motivator is now. So many lines have been crossed, lives blurred, tangled and torn – how will we ever know, now that we’ve gone beyond alone and passed into togetherness. What’s hidden by darkness is only ever temporarily cloaked from view – the light always returns and with it, the eyes
Oh and society is putting scars on my body
It’s got me acting so naughty
Setting fire to my home
Shifting blame, it’s always such a dangerous dance. I find myself feeling cornered, pigeon-holed. Society wanting me to only be one thing, one type, one interest – how utterly boring, how painfully not me. Feeling like my flesh has been bound by all of these restraints and expectations. They leave behind marks, marks that make me feel justified in rebelling. These societal expectations, trying to tell me who to be, leaving me feeling like a failure for not being able to fulfill, for not wanting to. I feel stifled, backed into a corner. My decisions no longer feel like my own. That has to change. And so it does, in an uproarious fashion. Naughty and sneaking, knowing that my actions are leaving a blazing, burning trail behind me. I had been in such a safe, sheltered place, now I look back to watch it smolder, pieces of my past flaking like ash. I reach out to see if there’s any chance of rebuilding, of going back, but the damage is done, the pieces of my past crumble at my touch.
I’m just another skeleton in a closet
A freak like no one knows
So much under the surface. The placid surface, as I once had it described to me. Still waters hide so much from the visibility of the surface. Secrets, beliefs, choices, actions, all resting down there in the depths of cool darkness. We’re all skeletons wandering, navigating. A person that appears exactly as they are is a rarity. We’re all freaks. Freaks that pass by each other unsuspecting, unknowing. One day your freak and mine will be exposed for what they really are.
But now is not the time
And here is not the place
I’m on my way to somewhere
The time for exposure and inevitable judgement is not now. For now, I will walk on, letting the view of my smoldering safe past fade away from view. My freak and I have a journey to embark on. The destination is not entirely clear, nor is the path, but the necessity for forward action is shouting, screaming, undeniably pristine in its urgency. We are on our way, freak self and all. Perhaps the days of living under a placid surface will soon be behind me…