Each new model will smooth over our insanity,
For they’ve slept in their silence, animated by our delinquent–
realities armed with their sweet God-like reprieve;
A cage for the soul dependent to believe.

Those florescent dreams hard wired to inspire–
will find you gazing into the mirror of mirrors,
they are holier than we could ever seem;
Dear Sage of wisdom I need a strong fixation.

I need something better than revolution,
something more to nullify this reality,
I need the clock to start its tocking;
I need this boat to stop rocking.

For I’ve been looking for the architect of paradise
The one who would sell his soul for a compromise
Where the clouds fade, I need a permanent location
The Lord of flies needs a new revelation.

No more bubbling thoughts and mad explosions
No more losing, oh this conscious attrition
Please little sunshine, take it all away from me
Put me in the hospital, lock me in key.

Confide in me your panacea of medical productions
Pacing the isles in the larger than life corporation
Picking out secret skirts for your miniature wives
I want to fly away from this carnival is a lie.

My strange ideas caught on candid camera
Pathological drunkenness and the intelligentsia
We sleep in our armed and wired desires
What is it now that they desire? Pacifier? Sir Empire?

I may be crazy still, you see
that I won’t kill you yet to survive me
I will carry the burden of this conformity
Maybe some day enough reason will let me be.

Oh Insanity, take this as my final plea.

Gabrielle Bryant (c) 2012

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