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Seatlle west coast America, a clouded city at best,  an urban hell hole at worst. As the storm clouds gathered a man slumped dejectadly against a wall in his massive but empty mansion. He shivered, it could have been the cold, it could have been the sorrow anger and pain in his heart that swirled round in a dual cyclone of isolation and madness, whatever it was it didnt matter, nothing mattered he was a puppet to a substance that gave him respite from his existance but at the same time had destroyed it. It was over, there was nothing left. Completely alone, They'd left him, friends, family, bandmates, the wife and child he loved.

Hand in hand we sat together, Huddled for warmth in the bitter weather, The church tower stood a pinnacle in the dusk, Its weathered insides a lifeless husk, Upon the tombstone we both sat hand in hand and head in lap. A quite place where two could be seperated from the world by a glade of trees, we stroked,we laughed we kissed we cried, Living out our lives amongst those who'd died.

An Evil Inhuman Monster, a slaughterer of innocents. Man, Woman, Child. Living in oppulence as his people wither and die. Suckling on the rotten breast of the once proud Euphratyes. Whose sludge filled waters conceal the bodies of the few who dared question. And as the ' liberator's ' tanks arrive. Their faces contorted in mock horror, As the world is busy comdemning the evils of the enemy. They forget the innocents. Crushed to bloody pulp, Under the Iron Shod tracks of their friends. And as the selfrighteous cry. "Hang the evil tyrant high!" A grey old man prepares to die, he shuffles to the gallows, old and sick. His death simp

I've seen the beautiful person within her, I thought I'd finally found her, It was just another illusion, A mirage in a desert of madness. Always one step away a perfect fruit Tempting and beautiful, Just out of reach, Tantilus vine above a pit of despair. A lone figure in a hall of mirrors, Distorted and reflecting, The fragile creature beneath, Cloaked in a hundred alter-egos Angel or Succubus? I've seen both, Loved both, A moment of bliss, An eternity of pain. Is anyone ready for love? No, Some are more ready than others, At least some try.

The Shell fire thunders over the Holy Land, Jehovah 's skull lays split in the sand, Vengeance is the name of this war, who knows or cares what we were first fighting for, We die to drive the infidels off our land, The media condemns the side with the upper hand, Jew, Muslim, whatever bandwagon we ride, God is always on our side, Whether he lays festering in Synagouge, Mosque or Spire, All that changes is the body count, Climbing higher and higher

What is truth? Humanity has spent its entire history trying to find this out. Is there a god? Why do I exist? Do I have the right to kill that annoying philistine in a baseball cap? Many answers have been proposed for these questions but all these are fairly easily undermined or side skirted at least by anyone possessing a brain. Nearly all organised religion requires faith. What is faith? Faith is swallowing what you have been told just “because”, which if you, like me, have an accquaintance who uses this connective to answer any and all questions, it is undoubtedly a very unsatisfactory answer.  It cannot be underestimat

Unsatisfied I lay at night wondering what might have been, The people I could have talked to, the places I could have seen, A list of all my failings writes itself in my head, Being alone where I can see them, fills me with complete dread I lay awake recalling, my mistakes for the day, The clarity of nightfall keeps me from stopping their way, Humiliating whispers, seep softly in my mind, To my many sickly faults, I wish I could be blind…

Salvation for the people, Justice for the masses, The ultimate sacrifice for the ultimate cause, The Aesthetics of rebellion and tolerance washing away corrupt uncaring controllers.. The sick joke of today, a placebo for the injustices its leaders enact, A whole new front for war, violence, oppresion and death. The inverted antithesis of a pure word, Twisted into 2000 years of pain,   Jesus wept....

Every once in a while I let Jesus come to church with me. Sometimes I peel the duct tape from his mouth and let him join in our satisfied service. When he starts in on the plight of the poor, on the excesses of our sanctuary, on how he prefers communism to capitalism and peace to war, then I pull the duct tape back across his holy screaming lips and crank up the volume on our corporate worship to drown out his muffled whimpers.

Enclosed within three soaring brick walls lay a courtyard, the walls covered in writhing creepers. The brown stems tunnelling into the wall, as deep purple blue leaves adorned the brickwork face. The stems hidden like amphibians, a pale woody brown against the faded red of the walls, and the crumbling grey of the mortar. Naked stalks held strong as short gusts of wind gently caressed the leaves of the creepers, causing them to sway from side to side; imitating the cautious movement of a serpent's slender neck, peering about its surroundings; searching for its prey. Occasionally a leaf detached itself from the stem and fluttered through the ai

Stepping stones stretch across the river A water stretching into an eternity And as I step across this stream I feel a soft cold breeze and I shiver It was out and it was over, nothing was what it seemed to be And now I'm just searching again, for that dream I've sat here on this shore, a thousand times before There's a dream that slips in and slides out As I lie dozing upon this slowly shifting water I always believed in fault, but never knew it was in store And in time it came, and I covered my ears to not hear the shout How did I let the walls of Jericho fall, how'd I let it all occur CHORUS: And I strive through my day with a

My love is like a flower blooming in the snow, Putting forth petals where no other plant will grow, I don't know what you did to make this fragile flower rise, Breaking through frozen ground and reaching for the skies. My soul is now a garden, filled with flowers you have grown, Each separate act of kindness reminds me I'm not alone, There flowers bloom now all year round, No dead petals lie on life filled ground. What was once a barren wasteland, Now turned to green meadows by you hand, But its beauty is only a reflection of your own, It would wither and die without the love you have shown.