It's a Blessing

Rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal,
My what a tidy fortune reversal.
Explosions in your head, from mortar rounds,
Shaking, and breaking, and falling down.
Trance, empty trance,
Your stupid fucking dance,
The awkward glance,
And the polite chance after chance,
That you might have been given.
But you chose strife,
From your fuck-wasted life,
And the stars shine bright.
What a jump to make,
Into abuse and the fake,
But it's alright,
It's what you like.
Why not lie?
Circumstances to defy,
The world, the first and the very last guy,
Strapped in the chair to burn and fry,
In your school of catatonic despair.
Out in the open air,
From a calm calculated disposition,
The rehearsal determines the transition,
To a completely twisted exposition.
Gather pity from the well...
The well goes dry,
And you wonder why?
There's no reason, no logic,
Behind the reasons or logic,
Just a faulty switch with a nervous twitch,
Turning and twisting the knobs,
Trying to find the correct drag and pitch.
Trying to find default,
But to no avail,
The psyche turns and swells,
And for those around, a living Hell.
My my, what a change in perception.
What a misconception.
All around and in and out,
Change is about!
Can't say it's not time,
Can't sit and bleed and whine.
The lights don't have the time,
You must look your best,
Better than the rest...
After all you are, right?
Condescension is a powerful ally,
One you call friend,
Hoping it will be there until the bitter end,
But it doesn't make for a good bed mate,
It's nature turns on you and bites and berates.
Something you can't handle,
The betrayal, the flail,
Master your trade and completely fail.
Put off your pheremones,
The smell of fear,
Mixed in a drink of dramatics and tears.
Don't let your looks run away,
They'll save you some day.
Don't be bothered by the nuisance of life,
Get away, you only have time for paradise.
Lose yourself in yourself,
Why not?
Why stop?
Why forgive and forget, and untie the knots?
It would be too easy,
You need it for the fire,
Like a fuel for guilty ire.
Let it burn and sustain,
Let it form and contain,
Let it sear in the brain.
Deal it out, peddle the beggars,
I'll take a pass.
Maybe next time, or maybe not,
All for this and all you've bought.
Cashed in and got comped,
With destiny by your side,
And the smiling genocide.
What's that they say about nothing,
If you ain't got it, you got nothing to lose?
Or was it nothing that lost you...
With your thoughts, expressions, and the false self to conceal,
It's what Bob Dylan said babe, "How does it feel..."