Conformed Intent

I've been short sighted by a sidekick's sort of self-image
And who knows what I could be if I only ate my spinach
So though it comes naturally
I have an obligation to acknowledge the risk of rain that soon collapses me
All of my worry in vain as these limbs begin to atrophy
But what more could you ask of me
Actually
Ask of my past and every sick serpent laid across my path as broken glass
You do the math

And I swear, lying on my broken back I'll nail this ninth life down
No more fat cat, spinal trapped, in fine wine trying to drown
So I'm sorry if I seem ornery, your joy is just a bore to me
Not that I took the time to be acquainted with the ordinary
The happy trees I painted were all ushered under quarantine
As they threw the backwards book at me
So I tore out all the pages and wrote down what it took to bleed
Just another sad story of how the worm on the hook still bleeds

We're all practicing conformed intent
Lusting after dreams no more original than the molds in which they pour cement
And so lies the question
Have we been bested by our cynicism, with so many lives invested in the jest and Endless Criticism

I make plain nouns lead down trails the hound never found
Cuz repetition man, you know it only makes the people frown
Sure I could say my own name a million fucking times
But I'd rather unwind, crossing a brilliant line
Rather aim for Aesop constructing resilient rhymes
Sure it's something to aim for
But I'm just a nosebleed drifter, bitchin' about the game's score
I'd drink your juice but it stains more
Aim to fake insane and make the pain soar
But really, I just sit alone inside and write of rain pour

We're all practicing conformed intent
Lusting after dreams no more original than the molds in which they pour cement
And so lies the question
Have we been bested by our cynicism, with so many lives invested in the jest and Endless criticism