From the recording Twister
I'm half way to dead. I'm numb, but stil breathing. I'm starting to wonder how long this will take. You probably know I've been steadily fading, but then again maybe not since I hate to complain. I give into the aching. I bow to the lonely, delaying the pleasure and hiding at home. You've probably noticed, my facae has been absent from he crowd shot. Well, maybe you didn't know.
Well, if this be the fire let me burn like the Pheonix.
If this be the ocean then just let me sink like a stone.
But if this be the wind then I want to rag just like the twister;
blow down the barn, smash up the home.
I long for the new. I long for the unspent, just to start it from scratch and then break it again. I know that you understand just how I'm bent, (cause) you say it's the same way for you. I feel I've been like this now for quite a long while, ever since time for me seemed to stop on a dime, when I stepped out of the bottle nd into a lne of these lemmings away from the cliffs.
I look at this life and still it's mostly a mess. Clean up is a bitch and I hate all the stress. Oh, I'd torch it all down, and I'd turn myself in, if only I had the flame. It's not the road block, god no, it's this paralysis, and it keeps me at arms length aw ay from my bliss. No, I've not given up hope, but I know the score and I'm pissed at myself for how I've played the game.