I am the source of my own doubt; of my own fear; and it is through my lack of empathy that I have fallen into despair. I need not, though. I have a light that will lead me through; a voice that comforts me when I am cold; people who love not for how I have failed, but for everything in which I have succeeded. I will survive this construction: I will live on.

This is the age of misinformation where wise men are slaves to ignorant kings, "Get down!" No body got down. You didn't hear it from me or any of my friends. Ask yourself: can you live without it? You know it's true what they say about you. Yes, it is; now, in these footsteps, you will walk. Don't talk: if you say nothing, you will know. The cold hard truth is the truth is cold and hard the way it always has been and always will be. It makes life hard to swallow...you live and lie until you're in the grave, and, on your tomb it will read "Here lies a poor unfortunate soul. The universe aligned just to fuck with them" "What was that you said to me?" "I don't know...did I say something?" Agnostic tremons on the daily news: is this the monster we've always feared?! Is fear a killer, or my latest lover; will I ever be more than a singer in a band? Will I ever be more than a wishful thinker?

...so we run everywhere in a life time unawares to know each other. Like two ships passing by in the night, we think that we're wise, but we know nothing. Overly cautious of what others see, parents and teachers instill in us a fear of being left behind; forgotten...

<devotional> As the fire meets the rain and I'm saved once again, the world carries on as though nothing really changed but for me. Standing there is an angel out the air who said "Do not worry, child, I have come to take you home." If I die before the day and you find me passed away, do not worry for me: I have not died in vain. Do not fear; do not cry; wipe the teardrops from your eyes, 'cause as was done for me I will come to take you home.

They asked our men to draw their lots, but the one I drew killed me on the spot. When I awoke, I was a live again, but I knew many a word men cannot understand. I rode away from that battlefield on a space borne python who knew not how to yield and set camp up on a dying star: how I came to you from light years afar. (I am the factor you cannot see and I speak of a truth you refuse to believe. I am many things, but most of all I am me; I was once your slave, now above you are free) And from that star I searched for my desire, and I found her in a white hole fire: she sang to me in a trance like song. We made love and made peace, and then soon we were gone.

- i. American Son- American son... ...you are the life of this nation in blood... ...you are our future, but look what you've done... ...you've learned to take it while down on your knees; you accept that your prospects are bleak... ...you settle for the flavor of the week... ...you take you pills and drink until you're gone even though you're not 21; you're loud, obscene and think you're invincible, but you ain't see nothing, yet... You stare blankly at the night and watch your light go down inflames, but you don't know how to feel... ...you tell yourself that nothing is real; you tell yourself that it doesn't matter; you tell yourself you are weak to the construction: These are lies, lies lies on the ground! ...you are the life of this nation now begun; you are the waterfall of blood. American son, This is your mother and your father, and we love you. We pray for your safety everyday: are you cold? Are you feeling well? Can you fend for yourself in a world that's unforgiving? We are old, and our time is nearly come; we would love to hear from you again. Love your mother and father, love your mother and father. Love, Your Mother and Father. -ii. The Deathly March of Time - -iii. (Life is Heavy) - Spring to summer, with autumn around the corner. Winter winds sting just like anything good; birds drop like flies in your neighborhood. Like standing live, cold, naked out in the rain, it's always the same.... (Life is heavy. So, come to it? You know that we're born in the dirt; life is moving: not inert. So, come to it with me, baby.) Life is taking a swim when it's just below freezing while burning in the heat of the mid summer sun. It doesn't make sense, Lord, it doesn't make sense at all...so come to it! Whether it's past, present or future, it's always the same... Life is Heavy! - (Deathly March breaks down into...) - - iv. Alfomega (a prelude) - - (Deathly March gives way to ...) - -v. reConstruction-