A good question. Not even The Poet understands The Poet.
I suppose The Poet could best be described as a post-apocalyptic, post-modern, post-God troubadour who wanders the world looking for the transcendent. Sadly, in this spiritually blasted, dessicated landscape The Poet finds himself in the position of a modern Mad Max, eaking out a living in a harsh, mass consumer Idiocracy.
The Poet often wonders why the world doesn't all just commit mass suicide James Jones style. Why, in the pointless wanderings from to and fro do these silly humans believe tommorow will be any different then today? The world is a desert-harsh, bleak and unrelieved in it's shadows of grey, brown and white. The life has been bleached from this society and from us as well. We don't need to go see Night of the Living Dead, for you see, we live it.
What can one voice alone in this cultural desert do? The Poet knows God has abandoned us to his to our fate.
Though this is the case, The Poet continues his artistic crusade. This song best reflects the last happy memories of The Poet..
The Poet only wishes to return to the Golden Age...Let this benighted earth tarnish further with it's greed, wars, hate, religious fanatics, oppression, tyranny, poverty, hunger and viciousness. How soon the good and innocence is mauled by this machine we call Society. All too soon they will break them and force them to become slaves, to build them new devices they don't need, to spend money on useless garbage. And what do they do when they , like vampire, suck the last drop of innocence, hope and happiness from their victims? They cast them on the dust heap of society. Let's face it, School in most it's form is only to indoctrinate and forcibly colonize their minds, disfigure their spirits and rob them of all which is TRULY precious. People will fight to the death to protect a nation from colonizing bastards, but they hand their children over to be brainwashed, conditioned and enslaved to enrich the last generation of the Living Dead.
Preschool Days lyrics
All the things I've seen, couldn't prepare me, for what I was about to experience.
As a little boy, growing up in a world, made for all the big kids and the big toys...
Sometimes, I'd sit around and wait, play with my toys cars,
until the wheels would turn no more, than I'd think to myself...
Is my dads car coming home or will this be another night,
my mom, brother and I, tucking ourselves in?
I learned my alphabet to spell dad, how quickly dad turned to sad,
in my preschool days and the rest of my life.
My mother did the best she could, my brother stayed as strong as he stood,
a father figure to me, my preschool days.
I remember all the times mom cried, my brother stayed strong by her side,
and I would stand and wonder why there was three when there should be four.
Maybe my dad got lost driving home and then again it wouldn't make sense. I feel alone.
So where has he been?
He's running out of time. I haven't heard from him.
I hope he's doing fine.
Money cannot buy years of missing them.
Daddy gave it up, the kids forgave him.