Stream Of Inner Thought
A poem inspired by Dream Theater.
Words combine when dream and day unite,
In a way I could write a fortune in lies,
This status seeker's mind is alive,
Feeling flow from the Ytse Jam,
Never feeling need to use the killing hand,
So I won't light fuse and get away,
Or I'll regret it in the afterlife,
We're not the ones who helped to set the sun,
But it's only a matter of time before they find us out.
And so, my mind plays out these images and words,
Another day goes by, mind swimming with thoughts,
Pen touches paper, no rush, I must take the time,
Once I felt I was alone, now surrounded,
The miracle is the sleeper in the noise of the metropolis,
Eyes closed, mind at rest under a glass moon,
Moments pass as I wait for sleep,
These steps through life as I'm learning to live.
Next morning comes, sunlight shocks me awake,
6:00 my clock read, too early to rise,
In a dusty cupboard, I get caught in a web,
Reaching for medicine, my innocence faded,
The previous night's lust, a sordid erotomania,
From the room previous, I hear voices,
But I stand there as mute, the silent man,
I look in the mirror and I curse what I see,
Turning to mysterious guest, needing a lie,
All a blur, lifting shadows off a dream to remember,
Somehow scarred, previous night a secret.
So I wear my space-dye vest and go for a walk.
Meandering aimlessly, mind falling into infinity,
Ten years ago, remembering a new millennium,
And experiences past, and hearing "it's you, not me"
A million miles away from those Peruvian skies,
A decade gone, nothing gained, seemingly hollow years,
Good people, bad people, latter burning my soul,
A veritable feast of feelings cooked in Hell's kitchen,
Memory of walking beaches, drawing lines in the sand,
New friends have helped to take away my pain,
Still memories remain, wishing they'd just let me breathe,
Recalling tale from song, in mind, one Anna Lee,
I've reached a turning point in this trial of tears.
Looking back, I play out scenes from a memory,
Regression and redemption, coming hand in hand,
A story in earnest, beginning in overture,
Many times recently, I've had a strange deja vu,
Occasionally playing out through my words,
Staying calm, I avoid my own fatal tragedy,
And a spiritual ending, beyond this life,
Sometimes I wish I could see through her eyes,
To see what she saw in me once I went home,
We keep on doing this dance of eternity,
All the time I'm praying it's for one last time,
In hope I pray that the spirit carries on,
I wish for the day that I'm finally free.
As I count all of the six degrees of inner turbulence,
I find myself trapped inside a glass prison,
With only blind faith to get me free,
It seems my intentions were completely misunderstood,
We were due to begin the great debate in earnest,
You wished I would just disappear, sadly for me,
Once again we play out this overture,
It's clear that our relationship is about to crash,
And so to myself, I wage a war inside my head,
Myself posing the test that stumped them all,
I rejected the chance for a goodnight kiss,
And retreated back within my solitary shell,
I alone was about to crash, in reprise,
All in all I was just losing time, in this grand finale.
And so from within, I track my train of thought,
Wondering if I should change or stay as I am,
Searching in my mind to heal this dying soul,
Thinking with regret of promising an endless sacrifice,
A Holy book reminds to honour thy father,
An instruction that leaves no thought vacant,
Flowing from my stream of consciousness,
All of this futile, in the name of God.
Eight upon eight, forever octavarium rotates,
Mathematically speaking, it's not the root of all evil,
As many have said to me, the answer lies within,
I question whether within mind, or inside these walls,
I say to my friends "I walk beside you" and hold hands,
Staying strong in the face of possible panic attack,
There are never enough words to describe how I feel,
Our sacrificed sons a price for an unholy war,
Eight upon eight, forever octavarium rotates.
The only thing I believe in is systematic chaos,
In the presence of enemies, I've gained many friends,
They've forsaken me, and grown to love me,
Even though it feels like I'm in constant motion,
Waiting for sunlight after the dark eternal night,
Seeking repentance from those in my past,
The prophets of war shout from soap-box high,
Declaring war on the ministry of lost souls,
My friends stand beside me in the presence of enemies.
I look up, and I see black clouds and silver linings,
Rain begins to fall heavily, a nightmare to remember,
Starting a rite of passage to free my own mind,
Beginning to wither, I try to fight the cold,
All around me lie the pieces of a shattered fortress,
My freedom brought about the best of times,
A tale not dissimilar to that of the Count of Tuscany.
Words combine when dream and day unite,
In a way I could write a fortune in lies,
This status seeker's mind is alive,
Feeling flow from the Ytse Jam,
Never feeling need to use the killing hand,
So I won't light fuse and get away,
Or I'll regret it in the afterlife,
We're not the ones who helped to set the sun,
But it's only a matter of time before they find us out.
And so, my mind plays out these images and words,
Another day goes by, mind swimming with thoughts,
Pen touches paper, no rush, I must take the time,
Once I felt I was alone, now surrounded,
The miracle is the sleeper in the noise of the metropolis,
Eyes closed, mind at rest under a glass moon,
Moments pass as I wait for sleep,
These steps through life as I'm learning to live.
Next morning comes, sunlight shocks me awake,
6:00 my clock read, too early to rise,
In a dusty cupboard, I get caught in a web,
Reaching for medicine, my innocence faded,
The previous night's lust, a sordid erotomania,
From the room previous, I hear voices,
But I stand there as mute, the silent man,
I look in the mirror and I curse what I see,
Turning to mysterious guest, needing a lie,
All a blur, lifting shadows off a dream to remember,
Somehow scarred, previous night a secret.
So I wear my space-dye vest and go for a walk.
Meandering aimlessly, mind falling into infinity,
Ten years ago, remembering a new millennium,
And experiences past, and hearing "it's you, not me"
A million miles away from those Peruvian skies,
A decade gone, nothing gained, seemingly hollow years,
Good people, bad people, latter burning my soul,
A veritable feast of feelings cooked in Hell's kitchen,
Memory of walking beaches, drawing lines in the sand,
New friends have helped to take away my pain,
Still memories remain, wishing they'd just let me breathe,
Recalling tale from song, in mind, one Anna Lee,
I've reached a turning point in this trial of tears.
Looking back, I play out scenes from a memory,
Regression and redemption, coming hand in hand,
A story in earnest, beginning in overture,
Many times recently, I've had a strange deja vu,
Occasionally playing out through my words,
Staying calm, I avoid my own fatal tragedy,
And a spiritual ending, beyond this life,
Sometimes I wish I could see through her eyes,
To see what she saw in me once I went home,
We keep on doing this dance of eternity,
All the time I'm praying it's for one last time,
In hope I pray that the spirit carries on,
I wish for the day that I'm finally free.
As I count all of the six degrees of inner turbulence,
I find myself trapped inside a glass prison,
With only blind faith to get me free,
It seems my intentions were completely misunderstood,
We were due to begin the great debate in earnest,
You wished I would just disappear, sadly for me,
Once again we play out this overture,
It's clear that our relationship is about to crash,
And so to myself, I wage a war inside my head,
Myself posing the test that stumped them all,
I rejected the chance for a goodnight kiss,
And retreated back within my solitary shell,
I alone was about to crash, in reprise,
All in all I was just losing time, in this grand finale.
And so from within, I track my train of thought,
Wondering if I should change or stay as I am,
Searching in my mind to heal this dying soul,
Thinking with regret of promising an endless sacrifice,
A Holy book reminds to honour thy father,
An instruction that leaves no thought vacant,
Flowing from my stream of consciousness,
All of this futile, in the name of God.
Eight upon eight, forever octavarium rotates,
Mathematically speaking, it's not the root of all evil,
As many have said to me, the answer lies within,
I question whether within mind, or inside these walls,
I say to my friends "I walk beside you" and hold hands,
Staying strong in the face of possible panic attack,
There are never enough words to describe how I feel,
Our sacrificed sons a price for an unholy war,
Eight upon eight, forever octavarium rotates.
The only thing I believe in is systematic chaos,
In the presence of enemies, I've gained many friends,
They've forsaken me, and grown to love me,
Even though it feels like I'm in constant motion,
Waiting for sunlight after the dark eternal night,
Seeking repentance from those in my past,
The prophets of war shout from soap-box high,
Declaring war on the ministry of lost souls,
My friends stand beside me in the presence of enemies.
I look up, and I see black clouds and silver linings,
Rain begins to fall heavily, a nightmare to remember,
Starting a rite of passage to free my own mind,
Beginning to wither, I try to fight the cold,
All around me lie the pieces of a shattered fortress,
My freedom brought about the best of times,
A tale not dissimilar to that of the Count of Tuscany.