Rock, Post Grunge, folk,
Musical Tourettes: Fuck Categories
Lyrics
Poets and Madmen
Walking, trip the ecstasy
Ride the cloud, the clown in me
Misinterpret everything
I can’t help my sanity
Flaming stream, a light serene
Absorb the light into me
Feed my soul for the energy
I can’t help my sanity
He walks away
Fishy fry, the apple die
Cloud my mind and tell me lies
Send me home and help me try
Tear a layer from my ply
Beauty seen in a foreign eye
Up, down glance in pictured mind
Stolen heart and damaged pride
Tear a layer from my ply
He walks away
Passion in saints when blinded by rage
Soul of the mind, lines of the age
The poets and Madmen are one and same
Defying all reason, locked in a cage
Passion in saints when blinded by rage
Locked in a world where no one is sane
Poets and madmen, nothings the same
Except for the reasons he closes the pain away
Away
Bloody love and bloody hate
Lines of rage and nauseate
Breed their sins, they procreate
Tries to stop but it’s too late
A face in the mirror, an altered state
Death and lies and masturbate
Russian roulette, I contemplate
Tried to stop, but it’s too late
He walks away
Passion in saints when blinded by rage
Soul of the mind, lines of the age
The poets and Madmen are one and same
Defying all reason, locked in a cage
Passion in saints when blinded by rage
Locked in a world where no one is sane
Poets and madmen, nothings the same
Except for the reasons he closes the pain
Crawling away, he’s less than a man
The saints are all laughing at the offence
I look to myself when I look for a friend
Both of me poets, both are madmen
He walks away
