N-Demik & Methane - raiders of the lost art: I Missed It

Lechz Heacon - raiders of the lost art: I Missed It

I would play it smooth, avoid the truth, confronted in my youth
that I was cursed since my birth and Karma fills my shoes.
I can't deny it, so despite it, I ante up and try to buy it
crystal Balls, tarot cards, seeking guidance from a Psychic!
But if God's my only witness, then he's the one to judge me
put angels on both shoulders - help to motivate and nudge me.
And if I hadn'ta drown, id never found ..
.. higher ground - the wine was my medicine
but after i'd emptied it and penned all my penances,
the sentences i'd etched, didn't express my sentiments.
The perception of perfection is that it's simply our reflection
so I stay away from mirrors, 'cause I fear my own rejection
And luck protects them ^ At a time I felt I was balancing upon
.. a golden plateau. My ego and flow enhancing along
with my afflicting woes, now I'm reaping what I sew
- for doing tasks I remember, for people I didn't know.
He shook his head, from side to side, giving second glances
sent some to the abyss, blessed others with second chances.
Since it's my second time around, I should be making do
but it's a strife living life, when I see everything as Dejavu.

The evening night line echoes the derelict ticks of my chronometer
obviously born to weaken, in a dream is where I'll prolly meet her.
I'd rather it were all wreckless & perilous like terroristic hints
the sole occurence of my wavered exuberance pinned upon the freezer.
Unfortunetely now tinged with wrong demenor occuring invariably
scared to speak, but as it transpires, words are impaired in speech.
The last to be picked syndrome, in poems the writers voice.. divine
chime melancholy carillons, for the sand to stop subsiding in time.
Life is a lie, actuality astutely masked beneath candid graphics
as if man's rationale was to keep Big Brother the handy Blacksmith!
Missed the bus, the train, subway, missed Fate with the time of day
so I can kill it with cigerettes.. 45 away in my faint lung estate.
Here for a long stretch with Saddam Hussein running the lap of luxury
functioning wonderfully under this Sod's Law, sacked for one mistake.
Although I made the first wrong move like opening for a Scholar's Mate
isolated.. dark clubs on the card, odds on a solitaire to fornicate?
Form a shape- a shadow, autonomously anonymous..consciously dormant
and be that Jon Doe door mat persona until you honestly forfeit!