Absent Minded
God of delusions
In the house of me they have company
gather around the big screen where i listen to everything
everything i said once before
but now put to rhyme and music
for all the reason i have forgotten but will one day remember
they gather round to be inspired and listen to me talk to the walls i have just redecorated
watcjh me walk in circles or flick on and off the lights
cry to the world about the world
write on this computer
and wonder why the ange;ls are soo far away
but yet the truth is still soo far from being unleashed
I have asked them to take everything from me
my truths my lies my delusions
and make something out of me
all my beliefs my memories
my fantasies
make me your everything
and now i sit here feeling ripped off
but its what theyve done
all my delusions all my paranoia and fear and grandeur
all my hate and love
all my desire and admiration disrespect inner struggles
all in songs you just have to know where to look
my delusions are movies and books
my truths and beliefs fuel psychics and writers
i know you dont believe me
but it is rare i hear something i havent yet though of or said to myslef out loud
i often think i employ half the world
they take my delusions and make them permanent
my conspiracies my theories my rights my wrongs my everything
and whats under rugswept
the future might blame us for making them spit it out when im dead
for me not being able to have all of my mistakes rubbed in my face
but one man
on eperson stuck in the middle of something beoing the bad man the good man the sad man the happy man the crazy man
spilling his guts revelaing his soul
and having all of his emotiosns exaggerated and complicated
revelaed
and you all sing along is a weird feeling
if only you knew
Just look around
listen
think for a moment
what their brainwashoing you with
the propoganda and everything
your youtfull rage
your music as a weapon
your headless blunders
your wars
it all spawns from me
they take all my ideas and make something out of it
they take my delusions and it becomes a product to sell
they talke my theories and tadah a book
they take my grandiosity and run with it
its all me
i am to blame
its not them
they have no voice it is mine
again and again and again
The murder game
the fairytal i live
the centre of all conspiracies
the protest against poverty and power
i am everything i make myself and they all make me that
i am the centre of everybody
because i tell them what to do in the house of me
its all my voice
its all my delusion its all my dream
its all the method of my madness
and all i can do is practice this nightmare until i break the curse
and turn it all into a dream
gather around the big screen where i listen to everything
everything i said once before
but now put to rhyme and music
for all the reason i have forgotten but will one day remember
they gather round to be inspired and listen to me talk to the walls i have just redecorated
watcjh me walk in circles or flick on and off the lights
cry to the world about the world
write on this computer
and wonder why the ange;ls are soo far away
but yet the truth is still soo far from being unleashed
I have asked them to take everything from me
my truths my lies my delusions
and make something out of me
all my beliefs my memories
my fantasies
make me your everything
and now i sit here feeling ripped off
but its what theyve done
all my delusions all my paranoia and fear and grandeur
all my hate and love
all my desire and admiration disrespect inner struggles
all in songs you just have to know where to look
my delusions are movies and books
my truths and beliefs fuel psychics and writers
i know you dont believe me
but it is rare i hear something i havent yet though of or said to myslef out loud
i often think i employ half the world
they take my delusions and make them permanent
my conspiracies my theories my rights my wrongs my everything
and whats under rugswept
the future might blame us for making them spit it out when im dead
for me not being able to have all of my mistakes rubbed in my face
but one man
on eperson stuck in the middle of something beoing the bad man the good man the sad man the happy man the crazy man
spilling his guts revelaing his soul
and having all of his emotiosns exaggerated and complicated
revelaed
and you all sing along is a weird feeling
if only you knew
Just look around
listen
think for a moment
what their brainwashoing you with
the propoganda and everything
your youtfull rage
your music as a weapon
your headless blunders
your wars
it all spawns from me
they take all my ideas and make something out of it
they take my delusions and it becomes a product to sell
they talke my theories and tadah a book
they take my grandiosity and run with it
its all me
i am to blame
its not them
they have no voice it is mine
again and again and again
The murder game
the fairytal i live
the centre of all conspiracies
the protest against poverty and power
i am everything i make myself and they all make me that
i am the centre of everybody
because i tell them what to do in the house of me
its all my voice
its all my delusion its all my dream
its all the method of my madness
and all i can do is practice this nightmare until i break the curse
and turn it all into a dream
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God of delusions
God of delusions
