Leaving religion
Gather some troops
I gotta march to war
I need an army,
to save me from myself.
Reality’s packed up on the highest shelf,
and my tears turn to stone.
Gotta get outta here,
let go these fears,
hold in these tears,
fight my peers.
Reality’s packed up on the highest shelf,
and my tears turn to stone.
They all assume I’m going mad
truth is I’m an unstable man.
I’m throwing punches in the dark
‘till I get a hit.
Reality’s packed up on the highest shelf,
and my tears turn to stone.
Demented delusions,
running from death,
hiding in awareness of breath.
I’ve walked all those streets
of illusions and dreams.
Where things are dishonest
all those deluded moments.
Impressions of torment,
what a lie,
what a cheat,
what a major fuckin’ waste of my life.
© James Kemlo
