Art Of Darkness

It's just another day in the left of an artist

Searching for truth in the rhymes that I harvest

Art is my savior, art is my crutch

Art is my breakfast, my dinner and my lunch

Painting poems on these walls and I know I can't stop

Acryllic's on my fingers, dripping stick and hot because

I'm so inspired, getting higher every day

Honestly these sonnets still have got a lot to say

So bring me a pen and a pad and a beat

Just one hit, one fix and I'll be free

Cause this is the land where dreams are made

Where people get robbed, and pushers get paid

The passion and blood and the faith in my veins

made everything okay when I felt it slip away

Yeah it's been a minute since I've seen the sun

Since my parents saw their son and this process has begun

Cooking lyrics in a spoon, I stop and loop the beat

There's never time to shower, socialize or eat

I pop a tab of poetry, bump another line

Metaphors get mixed, I sit back and recline

V5 rolling ball syringe, stuck it in

Cause art was the curse and the cure and the friend

Know that is true; alive when I write this

The serpent is loose and I try not to fight this

You ain't gots to feel a low never

I'm the one out choppin wood in cold weather

The go-getters, we know better

(Art of Darkness, pokerface bettin)

(I'm the one climbin up the stairway to heaven)

(Writin poems all alone, welcome home)

Psycho sedative, type O negative

Sick of this monotonous cycle - repetitive

Is this reality? It's like "no," then it is

Back alley white snow medicine

for the defensive addictive personality type

Showin off teeth marks to prove (Reality Bites)

As if all of y'all lack the scars to match

But death is the bitch and that dog ain't barkin back

That's just junkie speech

The only time I stop talking's when a belt's between my teeth

It's a feast for the addict, a beast of habit

sneaks to the attic and seeks the magic

that speaks back - transcribe the interviews

I begin to use and can't hide my inner views

If music was therapeutic, I'd have been fixed long ago

But this is just a song you know

Once upon a time, this kid had a dream

A voice and a purpose and a vision to be seen

I realized reflections of fame were but illusions

Art was the curse and the cure and solution

I met with clowns, snake charmers, publicists

Saw my name in magazines, laughin I was lovin it

My muse and I used to drive and sing along

Down the California coast, in the woods writing songs

Up in the moutains, we'd try to unplug

Away from the noise and the stresss and the drugs

But I kept finding pills in the corner of my closet

Underneath the skeletons, hid them in my pocket

Like Jack Kerouac in a Big Sur cabin

Or Alan Ginsburg, in Greenwich Village rappin

The Pantheons of Poets, visionaries drinking coffee

Sitting in the dark through the window I was watching

Like a sniper with a rifle and a life full of debt

Tupac fell off because he didn't know the ledge

Respect the Jesus Juice like a noose around the neck

Mic cord wrapped around my arm durin the soundcheck (one one two)

Oh, you ain't gots to feel a low never

I'm the one out choppin wood in cold weather

The go-getter, and I'm lickin my chapped lips

I keep on swingin 'til the disc in my back slips

My ex called me callous - at least she called me

Pale flesh full of scabs - bad teeth from the coffee

Fat feet cause I'm portly - caffeine cause of a broken edge

When they speak high of my music it goes over my head

I'm a travellin man, with a gavel in hand

And a 12 member jury in the back of my van

Comin to a court near YOU!

I could see the rehab center filled with smoke in the rearview

I'm livin with my big money, it's my drinkin buddy

When I squander it I ponder if it ever thinks of me

When my chips are down and my bottle bottoms out

But I'm on the up and up so what the fuck's the problem 'bout?

In Western Australia, I saw the Southern Cross

Chasing turtles in the sea, our love paid the cost

My heartbeat erratically woke up and all I saw

were panties in my sleeping bag, a note in her bra

It said "Dear Lars we were never meant to be

Though you meant a lot to me, sending kisses in your sleep

In your sleep don't cry - remember the magic

You still own it, you will always have it

I'll send you haikus, with nothing but truth

I'll send them care of Icarus, hope they get to you"

What else could I do? I picked up the broom

Swept the pieces of my past from the corners of the room

While the beautiful people drink champagne and laugh

I just can't hold back, I just can't relax

Backsage in El Dorado, sitting with my fishing pole

In a dressing room consumed by my gang of wishing souls