Killing of Roses

Am I a sheep? Am I turning into one?
Am I getting cheap? Am I having fun?
Am I growing old? Am I still a child?
Has everything been told? Has everything been filed?

Left alone, I’m questioning my grey side
Everything I find in this machine
Is tracing its own footsteps in a sandslide
I shouldn’t hide away from this routine

Everything is going fine, everything is back on track
So I don’t have a reason to whine. I left the leafs, broke bonds with Mean Old Jack
This is how a man should be, all the broken plastic is repaired
And this is what the others like to see, so where are all the roses I have spared?

Life is full of choices, all have downsides
But choosing hesitation’s never right
My clothes sting everyday, sometimes the clock bites
Did I burn my purple gown just out of fright?

I’m desperate to feel the flowered drive
Dying is the process of one’s life
And life begins with youth, with the supply of roses filled
And death occurs from time to time, every time a rose is killed

Suddenly I long for self-destruction
Sun Replace the Moon was not that bad
Suddenly I understand the structure
Every situation drives me mad

Those longings aren’t strong the way they were
Sometime I’ll lose them deep within my fur
But I hope I will remember what their voices used to say
Will I listen in a year the way I’m listening today?

And the fire bakes the moulded clay that’s taken from one’s tongue
And the fire’s made of moulded clay that’s baked for much too long
And the clay the tongue produces has no boundaries at first
But it’s moulded into shape to live the function it rehearsed

Another rose is dead when I am done
Another moon is grown to kill a sun
And The Refill wasn’t Great the way I hoped it so to be
And the swamp of casuality’s been rising to my knee

And the rain at last arrives to kill the fire from which it bloomed
And it’s born again and to everlasting cycling it is doomed
And the rain at last arrives to kill the fire from which it bloomed
And it’s born again and to everlasting cycling it is doomed
And the rain at last arrives to kill the fire from which it bloomed
And it’s born again and to everlasting cycling it is doomed
And the rain at last arrives to kill the fire from which it bloomed
And it’s born again and to everlasting cycling it is doomed

Swamp of Casuality
*

Reincarnation
Lately I find out that I’m an error in the masterplan
Wandering about, I see no mirror, I am faster than
The razorwork more real than anything you feel
The razorwork more real than anything you feel

I look around, I hear a sound of other sheep to be drowned
I fall in deep: an endless leap, while being crowned to a plastic sleep
And now I understand the years that I have spent
And now I understand the years that I have spent

Everything is different when you do what everybody does
We all know what happens, still nobody will stand up because
The diamond may be fake, it’s too powerful to break
The diamond may be fake, it’s too powerful to break

And in my grave lies a slave who’s never been amongst the brave
I have seen what this could mean: the path is craved, I’m a machine
So this is how it feels to help the plastic wheels
So this is how it feels to help the plastic wheels

Could I use my ‘blessing’ for a ‘proper’ goal to serve my ‘race’?
‘But the human race is nothing in comparison to the older days’
The human race is gone, the iron structure’s won
The human race is gone, the iron structure’s won

The lake has dried and with all my might, I embrace the plastic night
In the maze I learn my ways: to ignore what’s right and count the days
And when your heart is sealed away, everything turns grey
And when your heart is sealed away, everything turns grey
And when your soul is sealed away, everything turns grey
And when your soul is sealed away, everything turns