Sheep Story (Rap format)

I wake up,
Thinkin' bout gettin' baked up,
A change up,
Dealin' witht he lives that we take up,
I make up the same stuff,
Lighten the gray guff,
But I will stay tough no fuss,

Cause you see,
I'm just a product of this society,
Constantly trying to impress those who would measure me,
Valuing Individuality,
Fearing my mortality,
Just another act to perpetuate conformity,
In its enormity we seize,
And great minds buckle under the knuckles of the fiends,
'Cause this glee's straight ease when you go with the breeze,
We just said, "Please, do what the demons decree."
And jeez,
Do you really think you know it all, (ha)
"Oh I'm special and I'll never drop the ball", (bah)
"The world's perfect and I know I'll never fall",
That perception leaves you empty like a porcelain doll,
But hey another day a self righteous proclaimer,
Steal what I preach from the last newspaper,
Or a next door neighbor,
Its a labor just to be a player and still savor the flavor of the media,
And with all the gifts its bringing I sure hope its treatin' ya and seatin' ya,
In its special big boy chair,
Watching the man with the plan and the Crisco hair,
Halt! Who goes there?
Enter the lair if you dare,
But prepare for the fear you will hear,
Tearing ears it's the sound you can't bear,

From the microphone,
On and on it drones,
Stop to think and maybe you can hear its tone, throw a bone,
Maybe something you'll or something you'll condone,
But until you take the plunge my friend, you'll be alone.

Perfect: Introduction

We are alone; all 13 of us. For once in my life I can say that we truly are alone. Our thoughts, our minds; ours to use as we please. At first, we didn't know what to think but we need individuality. Real individuality. We think of names to call ourselves. We had them from the beginning but they were lost or rather cast aside; no longer a necessity. We remember that they are James, Jane, William and Windy. What order and what gender these names possess, a distant impossible memory. But there are 13 of us and we have only four names. We make our own. It's better this way.
We have been at sea a few days now and with little event to speak of. We occupy ourselves with the water and the air and it all seems foreign and fascinating but we know we have known it before. The decay of memory holds any more from us. It's just this instinct. We smell and feel and see and its has been this way before. Only now, the echo of "I" is gone from our thoughts. An empty peace like the silence of morning before life begins. Matthias, one of three female subordinates is troubled by it, sitting quietly by the mast, reaching out like a confused child. Her recycling was imminent like the rest of ours yet some of us still yearned to serve the great purpose to at least be part of it.
We couldn't go back. We knew this. Life was moving once again as the great machine whirled and writhed with life to fill our old home. The barrier had only been down long enough to escape and even if we returned, our generation had expired its efficiency and those who had stayed were refunded to allow for an extra bit of energy. We will not be missed and nothing will come looking for us. Our path is for once ours. But we still looked longingly out over the horizon to city we once knew as Perfect.

Foreigner

There is this one
and she speaks strangely,
A curiosity for novelty,
Or something more?
Will I cast her aside?
Realizing she is nothing,
Draped in shadows of mystery and wonder,
Will I forget her words?
Seeing only beauty in their sound and texture,
Will I find her soul?
Or face instead the blankness of a wasted mind,
Or will she contradict my cynic's pride?
To at least bring me to be humbled
and mourning for the greatness I so assuredly cast away.

Breaker

He who is immune will not succeed,
Yet fall behind the fallen who fail where they effortless proceed,
A flawless strength in itself is flawed,
No honor in one who has not struggled and kicked and clawed,

Unstoppable, the monster of perfection,
Sows only destruction, no love or direction,
The breaker it is so named,
For even its betters will be by it so simply maimed,

Yet its evil is illusion,
A child lies beneath shrouded in confusion,
Striking out to play and to fight,
Not understanding the fires it is capable to light.

Aint No Bridge Builder

I gotta tell ya,
You aint no bridge builder,
You aint strong and you aint sturdy,
When the rain drives down,
You cripple defeated,
And I'll be damned if you get up,

Yet we trust you,
Curious thing that is,
We trust you with our tangible lives,
Permit you to guard our most valuable possessions,
Confident in your strength,
And I'll be damned if you've failed us yet,

I guess you're good for what you do,
That's respectable I suppose,
It's more than I could say for most people,
We just gotta do everything,
Never can quite do just something,
And I'll be damned if I was an any good bridge builder.

The End

Why don't you ever tell me the end,
I remember that part the best,
You probably don't tell me the end,
Because it is the part that makes you feel sad,
Or maybe you don't know the end,
Well then you are a big pretender,
All high and mighty dancing in the hilltop city,
With your big ugly microphone,
Can you even hear what comes out,
It would put you to shame,
I'm pretty sure your not that big of an asshole.

Obscurity

I love them. At least I tell myself that. I don't want to let go. They are my joy, my light in the darkness. I cannot forget them.There is so much potential to be had. So many fiery moments seen through fantastic confusion. And they make me good and show me pleasure. But. I am not needed. I am their amusing puppet, broken now though, boring and useless. Tossed aside. Into obscurity. Salvaged by the truth I had heartlessly left behind.