P.o.w. Lyrics

i'm finding it hard to think without being distracted, a cracked egg,
collapsing again, into being the centre of the universe, my focus
dispersed. now i label myself as every new trend is developed, caught by
myself when the priorities are dropped. disable my table of
contents while the past tense is shocked....i'm still moving on.

i'm never mentioned in statistics 'cos ballistics just wont realize the
size of my caliber. now i prefer to avoid all mediocrity, still escaping
the
hypocrisy, that i feel be creeping up on me dropping heavy loads on my
shoulders exploiting my lack of rest now i think that it's a test for
my realness, 'myrealness' my schizophrenic fear is armwrestling with my
true self 'mytrueself' HAH what a concept forever a changing,
facechanging, evolving into unexcpectable form. varying distance to norm
yet again i'm reborn to a world of scrutiny, a world so full of me,
and never this willingly have i walked into the desert. never before,
and never again, will this be the message that i want to send.

[chorus]
a shout turns into a whisper, a cry is left unheard. a doubt reopens the
blisters, and we're all left to stagnate.

i refuse to sink down to the level where the sincerity's lost, i've
found myself out on the cross-roads. too many times wandring on the
paths previously unknown, if it's a good
thing it's yet to be shown, shifted winds of chameleon waitig to be
blown, but not up in size surprise, surprise... -no-one hears your
cries. in the deep end.

following fashion and trends is like including the word modern on the
title of a book, just a useless hook, which too many took too serious,
filth filled their oesophagus, cause they
swallowed it all too easy, it don't please me, the weakness, too
careless the unquestioned treaty, the reclamation of recreation of free
thought, that's still been fought for every
day, but in the strangest ways, it's the winners of this war that're
being laughed at in their face, and the losers taking over in an
everincreasing pace. so which way was it
anyway? were the heards all originally grey? but i got the capacity,
still just being a branch in the smallest of trees. never again and
never before, lose your self, it's time to settle
the score.

[chorus]
a shout turns into a whisper, a cry is left unheard. a doubt reopens the
blisters, and we're all left to stagnate.

(C)contrast 1997