jikan myshkin
05-31-2008, 12:16 PM
An outsider is a legend of a myth
That has eroded the constraints of time
And has broken the shackles and confines of the mind
He or she alone can pass along the sacred road
Through fear and triumph without the bitterness of some yester year
In which they fought for the love of the world and was sentenced to the longing of the great kings
For glory and gold and God like status on top of the silver mountains
Of tarnished bronze
They alone know the human cost of the indifference of both the weaker and stronger ones
That litter the airwaves with hypocrisy and self righteousness
While the classical music plays soft and gives peace to a broken spirit
The walls are closing in and the outsider is burning
The skin is burning
The gut is burning
The hands are burning
The mind is burning
Joan of Ark is burning
Past the lamps of orange glow and past the sleeping freedom
That dreams can bring in the hour of need
Need and desire
Desire to need
The book of longing has been opened
And every page has been torn out and censored
The angels are dancing and singing
The networked fools are unbelieving
Candleland flickers in the breeze
And ears are deaf to the screams
The outsider alone can hear and knows all
The burning won’t end so learn to live with it
Follow the saint to italy and then tell your name
Part wraith, part shadow
Half love, half hate, half solitude
Sing me a song you rising star
Tell the outsider to come in from the rain
Tell the children that they can play again
For the outsider will watch over them
From a distance for it is not safe for the outsider to come to close
To the mocking glances and laughs of the boastful host
Give me love
Give me hope
Give me despair
But give me you
Is the outsiders silent cry
As they watch the children suffer
Powerless to help
Wipe a single tear from your eye…
That has eroded the constraints of time
And has broken the shackles and confines of the mind
He or she alone can pass along the sacred road
Through fear and triumph without the bitterness of some yester year
In which they fought for the love of the world and was sentenced to the longing of the great kings
For glory and gold and God like status on top of the silver mountains
Of tarnished bronze
They alone know the human cost of the indifference of both the weaker and stronger ones
That litter the airwaves with hypocrisy and self righteousness
While the classical music plays soft and gives peace to a broken spirit
The walls are closing in and the outsider is burning
The skin is burning
The gut is burning
The hands are burning
The mind is burning
Joan of Ark is burning
Past the lamps of orange glow and past the sleeping freedom
That dreams can bring in the hour of need
Need and desire
Desire to need
The book of longing has been opened
And every page has been torn out and censored
The angels are dancing and singing
The networked fools are unbelieving
Candleland flickers in the breeze
And ears are deaf to the screams
The outsider alone can hear and knows all
The burning won’t end so learn to live with it
Follow the saint to italy and then tell your name
Part wraith, part shadow
Half love, half hate, half solitude
Sing me a song you rising star
Tell the outsider to come in from the rain
Tell the children that they can play again
For the outsider will watch over them
From a distance for it is not safe for the outsider to come to close
To the mocking glances and laughs of the boastful host
Give me love
Give me hope
Give me despair
But give me you
Is the outsiders silent cry
As they watch the children suffer
Powerless to help
Wipe a single tear from your eye…