Lost and crazy, ripped and hazy, drunk and banging,
Lips in sync, eyes withered and weak, voice sweet,
Fire raging, backdrop blazing, the voices singing,
'Hate equals fear when pain is allowed to steer,'
Fake, break, state, this makes, stained, stay and wait,
Suffering the falling of the painstaking view of sanity,
This is crazy, forget the maybe, I need the daily, this dose of sanctity,
Hopeless for the Godless forgiveness for the blood stained dress.

Lost, I'm lost, crazy, could be, lost, maybe,
Lost, I'm lost, crazy, could be, lost, maybe.

Sever the ties that blind the time and blur the lines,
Cut the rope loose for the hope that we can pull through,
Stop the clock at half-past lost with a limited dialogue of 'not.'

Lost and crazy, ripped and hazy, drunk and banging,
Refurbished soul, simply dull, another fresh hole,
This is sound, this way down, bit my lip with a frown,
Freakishly tame, I probably sound insane, but that is okay,
Choke, go for broke, see the hole, another innocent joke, low,
I'm just the common, the all too prominent, should have seen it coming,
The man that used to be, that one blast back for the 'hold me,'
The end, all over again, losing the begin, somewhere between 'in.'

Lost, I'm lost, crazy, could be, lost, maybe,
Lost, I'm lost, crazy, could be, lost, maybe.

Sever the ties that blind the time and blur the lines,
Cut the rope loose for the hope that we can pull through,
Stop the clock at half-past lost with a limited dialogue of 'not.'

Lost and crazy, ripped and hazy, drunk and banging,
Yell for help, maybe they can shelf what remains of hell,
Organize the papers, well 'put-together,' don't you think,
Stuff the blanket, with what we didn't want, toss the evidence,
Hope, nope, gas goes, lit stove, cold, toes, blue notes,
The melody drowns out the sound of the crowd as we dance around,
Few screws loose, another drink down the tube, we're all screwed,
Notepad of scrapings, sketches of lately, jot them down safely.

Lost, I'm lost, crazy, could be, lost, maybe,
Lost, I'm lost, crazy, could be, lost, maybe.

Sever the ties that blind the time and blur the lines,
Cut the rope loose for the hope that we can pull through,
Stop the clock at half-past lost with a limited dialogue of 'not.'

Lost and crazy, ripped and hazy, drunk and banging,
The door has closed, at least it has been told,
The pale shell of what held, we melt what had been telltale,
Burn the papers, leave the staples, ****ed and mangled,
Late, bait, this tape, stays, same, another one laid,
Focusing on the tragedy gets everyone the same formality,
No trust, we can't continue the push, this is no way for us,
Let it die, later we can cry, today we ask why, tomorrow we find.

Lost, I'm lost, crazy, could be, lost, maybe,
Lost, I'm lost, crazy, could be, lost, maybe.

Sever the ties that blind the time and blur the lines,
Cut the rope loose for the hope that we can pull through,
Stop the clock at half-past lost with a limited dialogue of 'not.'

Sever the ties that blind the time and blur the lines,
Cut the rope loose for the hope that we can pull through,
Stop the clock at half-past lost with a limited dialogue of 'not.'

Not today, maybe, no more of the 'same,' lately, too much pain,
Time to say, we can't remain, friendship still the same, I never thought negatively...

Great lyrics F & L....

Another great write, you're so talented.

Thank you...although to me it looks like a series of random rambling. I think I lost my thought pattern towards the last verse, and I'm not sure if very many people can pick up on the symbols that I used. I left writing for an audience there, and took it into a more personal direction...unfortunately.

I didn't notice any rambling. Then again, you know more about what direction you were trying to go in then we do, of course. I think it's very good, though.

Thank you.

You're welcome. I don't think we can avoid making our writings personal, since they usually are. Even when trying to be objective, a bit of ourselves creeps in. And that's not a bad thing. Makes it more real, people can relate to it. JMO

That is true, but lyrics work differently. Typically most lyricists write in such a way that they can maintain a personal appeal while still allowing the audience to grasp the topic. Poetry is able to hold a personal intent and meaning while at the same time not being able to be grasped by the general audience, unfortunately, poetry doesn't sell until the poet is dead typically...lyrics always have the possibility of being sold, though.

Considering my future intent with my lyrics I want them to be more "publicly appealing," persay.

Ah, so you think you might have gotten too cryptic in certain parts?

Precisely, and while cyrptic works for certain lyricists...they have quite a larger following than I do.

I guess I'm weird then, because I like it. I like to be able to glean my own meaning from songs and poetry. I guess I'd have to know why lines you don't like to make a good assessment, because I still say it works.

You have a large following here.

The last verse is hard to follow, and the closing line is kind of jumbled together.

I'm glad I have a following here.

Okay, I admit I'm a bit dim, so I'll say I'm not sure which one the last verse is. I didn't learn much about poetry, and lyrics and meter and all that, so I'm going to guess this is the last verse?



If so, I don't think it's that cryptic. It speaks of loss, of ending, of stopping, of letting go, right? Everyone can relate to that, no matter the situation.

As for the last line being jumbled, maybe, I'd take off the "I never thought negatively" or rework it somehow.

This is the last verse, what you quoted was the chorus and the close. This verse doesn't explain or have a lead-up into it, which keeps it cryptic and hard to read into, especially the second line "The door has closed, at least it has been told," the problem with the line is it is too vague.

The chorus is fine as it stands, but the closing line is cryptic and doesn't have a solid thought process through it.

"Not today, maybe" specifically, as well as "Time to say, we can't remain." Those two lines are entirely too cryptic and they set the pace because they are at the front of the closure. One nullifies itself in saying "Not today" as well as "maybe," the other is too vague.

Both would be alright if I had not put those lines at the forefront of that particular portion, if say I added the verse line that I used for an example into the middle of the verse it probably would have worked better. The closing lines would have been better fit for the end of the closure instead of right at the beginning.

I figured I had it wrong. Well, I still like it. But I'm sure you know better, for how it should be. I think it's very moving and well-written. Since you don't like it, you can always rework it, you seem to have a pretty clear idea of how you want it. Shouldn't be hard to fix. I wish I could write songs, not that I ever tried, but I think I should stick to poetry.

Lyrics are bastardized poetry. I think that understanding is what has helped me write them so well, some lyricists will defend their work to the death by saying that it is just another form of poetry...but in the end it really is just bastardized poetry.

It seems to take more talent though, I don't follow the "rules" of poetry, I just write. I know I do it wrong, but it just feels good to let the words out, so I do it. With lyrics, you have to keep a rhythm and make sure it flows right and all that. Most of my poetry sucks, but it's healing.

Bastardized poetry, I like that.

Not really, it is pretty much the same as poetry. Few differences, yes, but relatively the same concept. Lyrics have a chorus line more often than not and they are put to music, they don't have to flow or even keep a rhythm. Lyrics are complicated in that they have to stick to the main idea, a poem can branch and go out onto other subjects...this doesn't work for a lyric, it tends to off-set the beat or music.

I'm not very good at sticking to main ideas. Even with my writing- stories, not poetry- I keep getting so many freaking story lines twisted, and then I have to go back and make corrections. I guess it gets too big.

I'm considering writing a poem about the self-portrait I drew last night but I figure it might be too soon. Then again, it's not really about the same thing, so maybe it's not overkill. Maybe one of these days I'll be completely out of words, that might be nice.

The day we lose our words...is indeed the worst day of our lives.