An Endless Journey down Musical Avenue.

An Endless Journey down Musical Avenue

The Metal Jungle and the Streets of Hell.
Every day I walk around in a small mad world.
Through the streets in the gleam of the electric light.
Thinking to myself: “This is how it goes down, this is how it ends.”
I turn my head upwards, looking at the little piece of heaven that can be seen through the forest of Metal Trees.
What hurts the most. What hurts the most.
As I watch the sky, I long for my soul to be free.
But it will never be, because freedom cannot be bought by money, honey – the taste of freedom – my soul will never taste.
Even if I set one foot wrong, I know I will never fall.
And even if I should fall, my life will always be simple, and clean I will forever stay.
I am like the Islander on a lonesome island in the midst of the sea.
Alone. Alone. Myself and no one else. Alone. Alone.
All these words in my head are mingled together in one big mess, but even though, they make sense when I write.
As I walk deeper into the city jungle of metal trees, I see people lying in the streets, suffering. “I must be close to the Gates to Hell.” I think to myself.
Lying on the road I see to people: Jack and Karin are their names.
As I look at the two dead bodies I grit my teeth and clutch my fists.
As I continue my journey through the streets I hear a buzzing of flies on the walls get louder and louder.
I begin to think of all the people I have met in my life: bad influences and good laughs.
Humans belong on the Earth, Birds belong in the Sky and Fish belong to the Sea; such is it told.
As I walk through the streets of Hell, chased by Death, I feel my self control weakening.
With these mingled words of mine, I write sins no tragedies.
I need your love. I need your love to guide my way. To guide my way through the streets of hell.
“So What.” I think. “So what with everything.” I think as I hold a pause on the sidewalk.
As I sit on the sidewalk, a girl passes me, singing: “Miss Lucy had some Leeches…”
Prejudice would have taken this girl, if not I didn’t care.
I look into the heavens again: here in hell, the sky is red and the clouds are black, filled with toxic.
Soon my journey in the streets is over and I see the little circus that I loved so much.

The Memory Lane and the Orange Traffic Cone
“Funhouse” was its name, but no more shall people see the mysterious wonders that would await them inside the circular tent.
I want to believe those memories are still alive, but my journey has to continue.
A dead couple lies by the entrance, “Marry Me” tattooed on each of their chests, by the heart.
I walk past the old memory circus and into the woods. I light my Oil Lantern – I will let it the light be lit for now.
Careful to not burning up the oil.
As I walk through the woods, I remember the Peacock I once followed in here.
I follow the same path as that time, ending up at the cliff where I saw the man who can’t be moved.
There was glitter in the air as I watched the stars and the back of the man.
“Boys, Boys, Boys.” He said and threw himself out from the cliff.
I backtrack to the path I am originally following, leaving the memories behind, but only to welcome that, from when I kissed a girl for the first time.
As I walk through the woods, down Memory Lane, I come to a Cavern. “Hey, Hello!” I yell, before my journey continues into the cavern.
Take me out. Take me out from this place.
Deep in the cavern I feel the cold form the night and the warmth from the earth; the point of hot and cold.
As my journey takes me out from the cavern, I think of the mingled words and my unwritten entity.
On the other side of the cavern is a sunflower field, bathed in moonlight, as I hear the music when the lights go out.
I stop at a lake and pray to my God: “Crucify my Heart, O Lord of the Seven Heavens.”
But a deep voice from the back of my mind tells me: “You belong with me.”
In this moonlit field I’m so happy I could die.
I walk away from the lake and up on the hill where the orange traffic cone stands as I know it will.
I remember once again the couple who always played “Love Game” around this orange traffic cone.
After they played, they would walk a thousand miles – and so do I now.
Just so you know; I will never die. Nor will I never live.
After a thousand miles, I arrive at the dock where a captain tells his mistress: “You sexy bitch” but I walk right past them, not caring about anything or anyone.

SS. Harpy and the Island of Mountains.
I walk aboard the ship, SS. Harpy, that will sail me to the place my journey takes me – the place where happy boys and girls live.
The ship sets sail and I feel the sea breeze in my hair as a little butterfly rests on my hand. It does not rest for long before it takes off.
Butterfly fly away.
As Hours turn into days, the captain finally yells: “Right Around, Right Around” and land in sight can be seen.
As I Look how land comes closer and closer, a stranger walks by and hands me a paper, titled “The Riddle”.
I stuff the riddle into my pocket and walks onto land. The land where the amaranth flowers grow.
The Art of Suicide. O What a Beautiful Art. The Art of Suicide. O What a Misunderstood Art.
Now that I have dirt under my feet once again, i will continue my Journey from A to the B.
My journey would have been better together with another person, but sadly no one knows me.
How long I wonder, O How long until someone will finally know. How long I wonder, O How long until someone will finally free me.
Now on this new island, i see mountains and hills all over. It’s the climb of mountains.
If I do not climb, the sand will take me, and I will be going under. The world will be going under.
The Sand, just like Sahara, yet more fierce and yet more beautiful. I could kill just to rule her, yet I would die trying.
But if I did in fact rule her, The Fame, O The Fame would all be mine.
As I continue my journey and the climb, I see a pair of girls climbing them together – faster than me.
“Like, whoa!” one of them says, but their speed reduces the sound from their voices, so nothing more is I able to hear.
The Pair of Girls made my confidence wage, but one thing keeps me going: I will no longer be not alive. I’m Alive.
As I Reach the summit of the first mountain I see a small monument of stone. Two sets of letters are written on it. The first is R.I.P and the second is M.A.D.
My Mamma always said: Everyone is Born to Die. Every Baby is Born to Die. Every Life is Born to Die.
I look past the monument and My oh My what a beautiful view. I feel my soul get stronger by every breath I take.

Night in the Downtown, Day in the Countryside
Dawn is on its way. It’s summer. I’m a boy born in the summer. I’m a summerboy.
As I continue my journey to the little temple in the valley of the twin peaks, I hear the words I need to continue: “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger. This is what you are and what you’ll be. Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger. This is what you’ll be and what you are.”
Closer and closer the temple gets – only ten miles left.
A Girl and Her boyfriend sit at the temple. They will tell me where to go next.
“This is our house, our house. Go to your house, your house.” The girl and the boyfriend tell me.
But the girl and her boyfriend are long since dead – it was a gorey demise I had led them to.
As I go through the temple, into the cellar and down the sewers, I feel a certain pull that indicates: “This way your journey must go” so I go up, and end in the downtown city – downtown boys and girls everywhere.
As I walk restless through the downtown streets, I see the flashing lights and neon signs – one says Doctor Jones, one says Madame Astrid.
As I continue my journey through the downtown streets I think to myself: “I must be lucky, but will this ever end?”
As I get deeper and into the downtown lives, I see drunken people lying all over – not one is sober.
I try to ask a half-sober group, on where to go, but they can only say: “We no speak Americano”.
It is hard to keep a poker face, when you’re lost and does not know where to go next.
Bu again, there’s the pull. It pulls me towards the end, making if feeling so close, yet so far away from me.
Out of the Downtown and into the clouded countryside. A sound of sirens can be heard from the church and a small police car rings its bells. Police bells and Church sirens.
A Patch of darkness is found in the middle of a field, and a couple is dancing a dance in the dark.
If I could turn back time, O If I could turn back time – where would I go. To the place I love the most; to the place I know the best. If I could turn back time, O If I could turn back time – where would I go.
Suddenly I hear the music again – the music from the sunflower field – it has followed me here, now I must go on. Don’t upset the rhythm, don’t upset the rhythm don’t upset the rhythm.
Roses are Red, Violets are Blue – Everyone is dead, and so are you.
Here in the countryside, only old people live. O how they want to go back to youth, back to youth.
I Tell them: “Relax, take it easy, you will all die quiet and peacefully – not feeling anything.”
As I sit with the old crying people, I remember what you said to me: “Everytime we touch, I feel like I’m dying a little inside.”
But I told you: “I won’t be crying when you’re gone.” And then you left.
But even though, I can’t help to feel that it’s all your fault.
Now I will leave the old people, and continue my journey. Me. The Concrete Angel.

A Sea of Knowledge and a Disco Neon Meadow.
Out of the countryside and into the sea, where all the little secrets are hidden.
As I have always been told:”Live fast, die young” and that I intend to do.
A thousand words you gave me, but you got nothing in return. For this, I apologize.
Ruby, Ruby, O Ruby, where have you gone - my Bright Red Ruby.
I continue my journey for a destination unknown.
I continue, deeper still, into the water as it gets darker and darker.
And all those stupid girls, drowned by their stupidity in this sea of knowledge.
A monster, this sea is, to those who do not know how to tame it – but luckily, I do.
As I finally reach the bottom, I sit on the empty chair, waiting like I was waiting for the weekend to come – anxiety and impatient.
As I feel the time is right, I close my eyes and when I open them again I arrive at the meadow of roses – roses flying elegantly in every direction. Here I got a kiss from a rose.
I look into the horizon and see as the people dressed in blue are coming for me.
I quickly get up from the chair, spin around and then I’m off into the night of the keen-on-disco Neon Meadow.

The Endless Journey
The two of us. You and me. We will conquer this mad, mad world.
Real men we will be, fighting for the good we believe in, as we walk with honor and pride towards death.
I become speechless when I end up in the same corner I usually do, and I turn back to see the people dressed in blue are right behind me, circled around me.
And then they pray to the lemon tree behind me. As they usually do.
And then I fall. Into the heavens, into the sky. Travelling around the mad world from where I come. Flying through the meadows, over the sea. Through the countryside, and into the downtown. Past the sewers, out from the temple and into the blue skies that makes the heaven above the proud mountains. I follow the SS. Harpy on its way back from the island. Ending up at the dock. I fly a thousand miles, to the hill and the sunflower field, to the cavern and the woods and the dead man’s cliff. Down memory lane and past the circus, not remembering what the name is. Down the streets of hell, into the metal jungle and into the little in from where I once came.
And as I land, I feel cupid’s chokehold get stronger around my neck.
Now, as I walk into the room, where my little bed stands, I have no mercy for the memories I have just remembered – I lie down, close my eyes, fall asleep and kill the memories inside of my head, locking up the mingled words.
Now, as I sleep, I will awaken once again, and then, once again, I will take a stroll out of the inn and into the mad world I live in.

Every day I walk around in a small mad world.
An endless journey down my Melodious Musical Avenue, in which most people call – My Memories.