Unconcious Deception
walkin down an old road
tryin to lose myself...
twisting through the memories
stuffed up on the shelf...
findin things i'm lookin for
things i tried to hide...
found a picture of my friend
from just before he died...
i tried to find the ending
the ending of my life...
instead i found another road
turned sharp like a knife...
i ran around the corner
looked and found my way...
a shadow of a memory
formed up out of clay
walkin down a new road
i found the potter's wheel...
the potter in the corner
making fiction real...
remember all the times
you tried to lose yourself...
the answers you remember
from way up on the shelf...
the potter in the background
spinning bowls and junk...
sometimes makes a memory
just to be a punk...
a memory made of fiction
its hard to tell what's real...
what was and what did happen
what came from on the wheel...
i want to know the difference
but they're painted so damn well...
the quality and the detail
makes it hard to tell...
i remember one time
i jumped into the sky...
i flew up over clouds once
i fell but did not die...
that day i found the ending
the ending of the groud...
into clouds was crashing
my thoughts are their soft sound...
sometimes in the shadows
the differences are clear...
without the added detail
the memories do not steer...
both though, not one only
real memories as well...
lost and become fiction
its just so hard to tell...
a thousand empty memories
an artist and a scribe...
the fiction that becomes them
for the two to decide...
a thousand times the sorrow
things that once were blank...
sometimes fictious happiness
to them i smile and thank...
but then the darker memories
of friends that met their ends...
its hard to tell what's real
and with who i was not friends...
a laps of time exists now
a resevoir of thought...
the fiction and the real
the difference? there is not...
years and years are empty
blankness upon the slate...
i guess i've made it easy
and opened a new gate...
the memories they write now
i can not question...
just like the happy potter
how now pots just for them...
a background growing darker
my past has disapeared...
no friends are in my memories
but has the list been cleared..?
maybe they were never
standing with me there...
for now i look around me
they are not anywhere...
what ever makes you wonder
if you are all alone...
what makes you sit and question
the writing in the stone...
when emtiness surrounds me
i guess i try to find...
some place to stay and be free
sanctuary in my mind...