Rule #3: You must never freak out.

I'll top the bill
I'll earn the kill
I have to find the will to carry
On with the show.

The show must go on.
The show must go on.
This ain't it, kid.
this just ain't it.

You gotta learn this fucking lesson
that your brain likes fucking shortcuts
That you make some bad decisions

That
Sometimes I need a leash.
Sometimes I think I need a choke chain
That frontal disinhibition will get me every time.
It's pain that's fucking clarifying
I see so very clearly now

I bought the ticket now I gotta
take the ride.
Wanna phone a friend or somehow
Pull the cord on
Some helpful parachute
Ought to hang the thing up
Now that I've got the message, but-

But the point is that I got myself here
And the thing about being alone is being able to get
Myself out.

The Show Must Go on.
Yeah, it is always all about the show.
All about the stage and lights
and depth and breadth of that experience, yeah
I'm all about that experience but it's just
Not all about me.

Stretch.

I've hanged myself.
Crushing bone against the years
Always believed that I was stronger than
My body could have told me
I've hurt myself.

It's real pain this time
Not the kind you label heartache
But the kind of pain that steals all of your other senses
Colors all of your defenses
Weighs you down.

Gates opened by an injury,
Now the flood's welcome in.
Every bruise and ache and tender
Place burns brighter, does me in.

Cause once you light up all those senses
Turn them against me, towards the wrenching
Twisting burning sinews in my spine
I breathe a mantra that I'm fine.

I'm fine.
It's all coming in at once, but
I am fine.
I'm thankful that it isn't worse, but
I am fine.
Finally take another pill and I am fine.
For now.

I lick my wounds and pray to God
I am fine.
Someday soon I pray
That I won't need a knife to cure me
I am fine.
That thirty-five is too young to start cutting up
This body that's betrayed me
I.  Am.  Fine.

I guess I never thought I would hurt so much.
This early in my life.

Sleep. Walk.

I sleep, you walk.

We dream and drift and drag our feet

Each measuring the other

Some circling standoff

Meant to keep both our hands quite clean.

Both guns not quite drawn

Both minds not quite open

Both hearts drum in a time we can’t quite

Dance to.

I walk, you sleep

We die and wake and find ourselves

Bowing at the feet we washed and 

Tried so hard to play keep away from.

I step gingerly around my own

Eggshells

You wish gingerly around your own

Regrets and reservations

Wish in one hand...

Repent in the other.

And see which fills up first?