Long Way Away From Eden

Prologue: Pink Floyd's The Dark Side of the Moon is considered to be one of the best concept albums in the history of music. A few days ago, I did a little experiment by changing the chronology that starts from Speak to Me and ends at Eclipse and playing the album starting with the track Money and ending it at The Great Gig in the Sky. Miraculously, the experiment paid off as I connected the dots and found a story about a man who is born rich into this materialistic world (Money), but later realizes the reality of the world (Us and Them), then he makes a choice where there is no choice (Any Colour You Like) and halfway through his life, he experiences his own insanity and he witnesses the harsh bitter truths of life (Brain Damage-Eclipse). He is reborn as a lunatic in the middle age crisis of his life (Speak to Me-Breathe) and towards the end, he realizes how his entire life got behind him as he missed the starting gun (On the Run & Time) and the ultimate culmination of pain, realization, life and death (The Great Gig in the Sky). 

At the end of the long winding road, there once lived a dear old friend.
Ever since he flew across the ocean, that road has a different uncared end. 

It was all just another jungle, all dark and dense and dangerous. 

But now humans live here and the killings have become far more monstrous. 

The aging Grandma's weak eyes stared far and deep into emptiness.

And the concrete in the new forest tested her for the proof of loneliness. 

It fluttered behind her, the possibility of an alternate past. 

She had to say goodbye to the clear blue skies, but time had run out fast. 

Wondering and dreaming if there'll be another day as much sunny,

The child stood watching as his parents were massacred for money. 

A thumb in his mouth and a balloon in the other hand,

The dream was snatched away from his watering eyes, it was his childhood's end. 

The papers next day rambled about a film star who passed away at ninety three, 

But none commented about the environmentalist who'd just chopped off another tree. 

Another columnist wrote about the rise and fall of a soccer legend,

But none mentioned that child who never built another castle in the sand. 

The survivors from the catastrophe look up at the Sun, wishing for a brighter tomorrow. 

The Gods refused to give the consoling speech and the last rabbit has hopped away into its burrow. 

A monk sermonizes about the inevitable quest of the search of one true heaven.

But why can't you all see? We've distanced our souls a long way away from Eden..

A Piece for Assorted Lunatics

It was as I remember, just another toneless Friday evening,

And the local band prepared to perform and sing.

The ceiling gleamed with dimly lit chandeliers,

The haziness began, as I gulped down another shot of Belvedere's.

I squinted around for that voluptuous bar dancer,

Wondering why do they strive for the gold that glitters.

A handsome tip I greedily paid, with the ardor for getting laid!

The sweet maître d served me the '67 wine,

And she whispered softly: I'll play dirty for an hour, if you pay me a dime.

They're not what they show themselves as,

There's a bewitched soul in every bonnie lass.

How I wish I knew all her sly tricks,

How I wish I could escape this house of bricks!

I stepped out of the place after the long hour,

Breathing in a rush of intoxicated air.

Outside the mist was slowly dissolving,

And the fog converged into some distant opening.

Making a tail of fantasy like a diminishing meteor,

And the vision remained clear no more.

I started walking on a perpetual journey,

While a dark and mystic secret it kept forming.

The voices whispered and argued in my head,

Some random images they sketched and made.

They sang and hummed and lured me on a way,

To some hamlet outside where reality kept away.

They danced away as quiet silhouettes,

Into the fading smoke of the burning cigarettes.

In the cave where the pied piper resides,

Where the darkness is eluded in white stripes.

The nature has decided to call it a day.

And the water from the shore dolefully ebbs away.

The sea awaits the downpour of another shower,

As the dark moon shines dully on the gigantic ivory tower. 

My thoughts have ceased from wandering,

And into my room, they're slowly re-entering.

Through the iron bars of the blanched window,

And into the grey bed by a bucket of water shallow.

I smile a little as the sham slowly disappears,

And the white lady with the drip finally reappears.

She injects my veins with a heavy draught of Valium,

Tranquillising my nerves and snuffing my phantasm.

I long for another trip, yet crave for eternal freedom;

Awaiting it all in the unnatural psychedelia of this mental asylum..

Coma Grey

Did the things finally stop moving in your head?

Did the voices cease to whisper in your ear?

Did you find your sanity back from the shadows?

And have you convinced yourself to quit taking the placebos?

Did the roads all look so different at night?

And did you forget where to turn to glimpse a fleeting sight?

Did you stop having those dreams in which you died?

Oh did you tell your doctor about the nightmares that never lied?

You know it's too late, the train is leaving in a while.

You know you can't change the fact, you have to walk that flowery aisle. 

Kiss your bride and make her happy with your fat wallet,

And kill your darling with whom you danced your high school ballet. 

If they say you're sleazy and blame you for your appetite of lust,

Then tell them about that poltergeist who screams 'dying a virgin was unjust..'

If they say you're fucking crazy, they've got it all wrong.

And if they they call you fucking lazy, then you need to sing them one more song!

Yes you might forget the words the next time you try to sing,

But remember that day when you comfortably played your old six string.

The couplets in your poems won't rhyme or make sense anymore, 

But remember that oath to complete your black book that you once swore.

The dreams will repeat and you will fall once more off that apartment.

Your memory will take toll and you will fear your own power of judgement. 

If the paranoia makes you forget who you really can be,

Then look at that man in the mirror and search where your eyes can't see.

The worms from your past might fill up your tidy fucking brain,

And she might leave you dry when you're about to kiss in the unseasoned rain. 

But don't give in to their God until you can still manage a half grin,

And don't slay those worms before you have committed the final sin..

Heroin Overdose.

The cold metal pricks through the layers of my flesh,

It happens again as the lightning strikes with a flash!

A rush of heroin through my veins injected from the drip,

Falling through the empty spaces: another magnificent trip.

I hear what I want to and shut what I can close, 

The TV is blaring about death from a drug overdose. 

Highways sway in and out of my dizzy sight,

I see those tall, black hooded figures mourning in my plight.

The abandoned mountains are raging furiously with a red flame,

A country lies destroyed, is sanity to be blamed?

They call me demented for the things that I can see,

Yet more than most of them, saner I'll always be. 

My sentinels are falling like tears from a star,

And the doors of my mind are pushed a little more ajar.

Images are shifting in a jiffy like a kaleidoscope,

Diminishing slowly at the mighty ocean of dope!

And it happens again, oh what a lovely lovely rush!

The grass looks greener and the royalty seems plush!
I crave for another pinprick as the drug endures to gush,
And with every passing trip, the hunger grows for eternal lust.


Lying motionless and slowly letting it all slip underneath,
I peek through the layers of my brain to see what lies beneath.
Psychotic thoughts have started to stir inside,
Leaving a frozen grin on my face and ebbing the final tide.
The ice below my feet is thin and cracking fast,
And with the cursed time, I wonder, will any storm forever last?

Midnight

Smoking doobies in a cold windy night on the roof, 

Mocking at this haunted world of fake spoofs.

Laughing in sick desperation at the mad butcher's door, 

And our echoes drowning forever in that bottomless floor.

This war will last forever young John,

They have remnants of graveyard yet to mourn.

There is place to drink and sleep and dine in,

But in this great hotel of laws we can never sin!

Hey little train wait for this boy with childlike dreams,

In his sleep at night he barely ever screams.

They're all painting a wall in front of our eyes,

To make us believe that the world is full of thin ice!

Old Mama has switched the television off at two in the night, 

The psychedelic outburst has blurred all the rest of light.

The ajar doors have turned from seven colours to white,

And that little voice inside your head wakes you up at midnight..