The Outside World

Hello all. I felt like making some changes to the site, and they are likely obvious. There may well be more over the coming days. Hope you enjoy it.

G

shoot me

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i won’t say

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part 2

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shift

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eschaton

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a second look

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perfectly

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blind spot

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eschaton
lyrics by gideon humphrey

maybe you
have heard that i
have finished school
settled down
got a job
with my degree
a cute young wife
a kid or three
a little house
a picket fence
and even these days
on the weekends
you might find me
at a bar
up on stage
with my guitar

but if you approach
i’m apt to stiffen
shy away
i’m half the boy
i used to be
more a robot
a machine
an autopilot
chasing someone else’s dream

if you really
want to talk to me
i’m still sitting
in the park
atop the hill
every morning
people’s lights come on
the sun comes up
across the lake
the city
comes to life
and i admire it in silence
wondering how the hell the only other one to notice wandered

out of mine
out of mine

and every morning
right in front of my big eyes
there’s a world, complete, alive,
reborn
and in the evening
i turn to see you get inside your parents’
van
and it ends

shoot me

there’s no blood
and no scars
no excessive nights of drinking at the bars

i am dreaming of the time
we climbed the roof in waterloo
as we’re looking on the city
i would rather look at you
and i’m thinking about telling you
as if you didn’t know
but i sense your hesitation
so i simply gaze below

you have let me down
in summertime
i get the runaround
you let this die

there’re no highs
like before
and no lows necessitating your defense no more

and i guess that things look different
from an elevated place
if you feel that you’re above it all
i cannot save my face
so i promise you eternity
and you commit a while
and it’s obviously ominous
but i am in denial

you have let me down
in summertime
I get the runaround
you let this die

what you got for me
an english word, a touch
a letdown in a month
i’m not worth much

a shot rings through the city
it annihilates your pledge
i don’t notice that it hit me
til i stumble off the edge
i am falling from the rooftop
i am bleeding from the head
and the night air rushes past me
in a moment i’ll be dead

and the last thing that i’m seeing
as i look up from the street
is the smoking gun you’re holding
blur as you look down on me
but the thing that really gets me
more than you holding the gun
is that this dream feels
better than the things you’ve really done

shift

you hear the noise, it’s your alarm
you’re barely poised to move your arm
get up for work, forget the night
cause it could hurt and that just might make you
a little less productive for the day ahead

get on the bus, arrive on time
and you’re with us from 9 to 5
caffeine at ten, the usual
you see the end, your cubicle

every day feels like a movie drug montage
why is every fire drill a false alarm?

twelve divisions in a circle urging you
to get to work or face things that you’d never choose

prioritize efficiency
if it’s all lies, then they’re all me
fluorescent fraud, the sun is out
if there’s a god he cares about you spending

every waking hour caught inside a box
he’s given you the key but hidden all the locks