The Path.

Fear me.
Fear me.
Fear me.
Fear me.
And if you can't fear me,
Then be afraid.
Cause my God is better than your God.
And my God is bigger than your God.
My God is realer than your God.
Aren't you relieved that God is American?

Aren't you proud of your humble heritage?
The wooden wheel rolls along
Gravity, it's will, entwined.
Parallel with a singular goal
Stagnation is not an option
Until the bottom the two reach
In unison, like fate
The will, the pull, the wheel
Together all fall down.

Silence in the air, a lack of wind
The trees appear like photography
Alone inside this steel trap
With nothing but my devices
To haunt me with things
Better left unsaid
At least I tell myself
So I can keep on keeping
On another existential plane
Where the only spirits floating by
Are distilled with rye.

If I go on again
Down that old rabbit hole
I'm not sure I'll ever come back
With out a rabbit
Which may or may not be
Of my own creation.
What good is it then
When you've finally won
Only to find
You've written the rules?

It is only after death
That we can truly reflect
It's the grave that brings comfort
So much warmth within the soil
The dirt, full of energy
The body encompassed, decomposed
If I could only find my formaldehyde
I'd be bit more presentable

Worked up over things
So unnecessary
Still it's unsettling
Contemplating transients
Focusing on opportunity
Instead of the burdens
Of getting it for free
When it's cost you everything.