• I am a stranger's son bound for the west
    I count my words as spun with the best
    to be high as a kite in the hills of hell
    to let go of the past and wish you well
    these are dreams of which none will stand
    but i hold onto them to comprehend
    the Vicodin numbs me, makes me painless
    the Xanax calms me, makes me loveless
    pressure put forward is returned in time
    so where is the karma to match my crimes
    dumped like trash in the filth of progress
    endless cycles make change meaningless
    worried we'll be till the earth meets the sky
    anxiety will haunt us till the day we die

    -Rob King
    "Lucidis"