this fever, hotter than my hell
that deeper shallow, i'm hardly willing to tell
with lips lost to more than three sheets to the wind
into that unwanted course where my spirit wears thin

there as i rest, in the turbulence of my chaos
blinded by the dissension of my flesh and spirit, lost
this vision of antiquity rises from the deep of the see
inviting me to enliven my soul's ethereal harmony

i did see, in as much of a muchness, and believed
for, til then, i embraced a forlorn sanctuary in self deceit
yet mine pixilated lips spit at the sublime of that sea
admitting to suffer this concrete, life of reality

because i cannot pretend to be above that or this
olympus is neither here, nor is it bliss
for true bliss to be true, one must suffer its wisdom
there's no heaven on earth within reality's kingdom

you can peel off suffering to get to the fruit of life
but together they grow, love happiness grief strife
and i don't mean to say that i need to drown in my miseries
but a balance between harmony and chaos, within me, exists