The Frame Machine

So awake for the first time
The last times and the best times
home feels so alone
I 've just come back from a trip
theres no way you can understand right now
but when you do, you'll sing along, so hard, and so loud

I wanna go home to my friends and those moments
To those fires on the beaches, to the singing of songs and those happy birthdays candles in a tiny little gazebo hut,
To the night times we ran, and walked, and we talked about something, about everything, about nothing at all,
Slept on the the coast, and we all lie down and just are on this shore,
We drank together, ate together, sat silent together,
we laugh, and we cried, and we hurt, and we worried,
we praised, and complained together, and this place was our playground.
Now everythings gonna change, won't someone bring me home.
Lets swing, throw stones and ice into the water forever. (And we'll call this home)<-3rd time end
Play in sand, and fly some kites.
So I listen to music to help me fight off breathless fears.
Stop this bus and heat, and bring me back to the night.

Looking at the present and future,
walking slow don't wanna go back to the room with four walls
and the fucking problems,
Sitting woken from the dream
sound of the mouse and the hum of the screen, and this modern scene
I hate this life, I know I'll get through it somehow, but right now...

I wanna go home, I wanna go home, I want to go home,
To home, but not here, not here
I want to lie down, I want to sit up,
I wanna be awake don't miss a moment before this shock
I wanna go home to, Lord I wanna go home to...

Lets get drunk
I asked you to come out
what you have is spectacular, its been to long
No one recognizes the unknown heroes, real heroes
the ones who ask for nothing, getting nothing in return
The stone, a stroke, in the midst of the monet that makes the piece

Forgive me if I pour salt onto your new pearls of red
If I tell your story to strangers, to the ears of strange crowds.
I'm trying make these people hear, its 1984
Oh wandering sheep, wake up, wake up, wake up.
There heads are draging on the floor

Charlie reads the pages
but somthing there is wrong
A puzzle without a certian piece, a tune taken from its song
A poem without its meaning become scribbles on a page
"Am I just a clockwork orange," a lonley lost sheep said.