Don't Wanna Be Your Bad Dream (Demo)

You walk along broken roads
On cracked toes
Until you find that your own nose
Can’t seem to smell the roses anymore
You’re sick of standing with grass below your feet
That doesn’t quite meet 
The expectations you had from a dream
You’d once seen

And as you walk along
You realize that this fading twilight will never meet its dawn
Oh, what a cruel fate to never stay
Long enough to know your place

You break for a little while
And see all the miles you put behind you
And you start to wonder
What the hell it was even all about
With friends and foes
And some that even Heaven don’t know what they were to you
But you figure
They must’ve meant something, somehow

And if their words turned to sand
And were blown away with the wind
Would you chase them, for not to forget what they meant?
Or let them be carried out sea?

So now you see the end 
As relief intersects with your regrets 
And you’re not quite sure
If you want to cross the finish line
Tables turn as you yearn 
For the better times you’d collected in your mind
And you cry out “Can I just rewind?”


But you take your head out of your hands
And march forward with your final steps
Gone in physicality but not in memory
Gone, gone, not to me

Broken Roads

Chris's Album

Arcana

Visions Of Strangers

Losing My Faith

Knives

Shots rang throughout the halls
The doors respond to a desperate call
A family’s relief has stalled
The flood has drowned it all
A prophet has been burnt to ash
An old monk’s life has come to pass
That girl, she could never last
Memories of her will remain in the past

The flames leapt out onto the page
Fed by an artist’s rage
They claim to cleanse, but hesitate
When the ashes whisper “hate”
When the day came where the towers fell
A man in the air had a story to tell
He claimed that hope may indeed persist
After the world has ended

A culture colonized
Its offspring compromised
Their stories will all align
When lead falls from the sky
Plastic ignites fire in young eyes
The future, the end has arrived
The celebration is set, the heist is on
Tragedy’s heart beats on

Run away, run away as the bullets spray
And the blood seeps through the floor
Keep your eyes trained on the firing squad
Each one of them has a story to tell

Our fathers dreamt of Willoughby 
Blind to true notions of suffering
Go west, it could set you free
Well, maybe
A love born out of compromise
A mother’s eyes devoid of life
The father will stay behind
To be terrorized

The term “safety” is relative
To the home the doors have to give 
Their lives will not go unlived
But their love just might
Somewhere, on a sunny coast
Where Tony Loneman became a ghost
Epiphanies rear their ugly heads
And that love is dead

Down the road, down the road they’ll meet again
In the rubble that once was their home
Who could know, who could know what could have been
Had they never left

From coast to coast, drifted to land
A tale penned by a child’s hand
An ode to life and suicide
And how the two become alike
Schroedinger is staring down
A box labeled “Here and Now”
It’s contents are spread across
Innumerable universes

Among debris, swam this book
A novel, easily mistook 
For the musings of a mind, too naive 
To comprehend suffering
And Schroedinger has turned away
To neglect what his cat is trying to say
So Ruth will find herself bemused 
Hell, the best stories find themselves confused

Some Mr. Jones-type on the radio 
Tells Teddy what he already knows
Bare-skinned, he trudges through the snow
Somewhere in Colorado 
His friend will convey apathy
With news of Teddy’s love dying
His mind is preoccupied 
With some much more relevant plight

Carry on, carry on with news of
A more recent homicide
Move along, go on, she’s already gone
The future is still alive

By ancient scars, these people are defined
Little deaths give breath to new life
Mutilation and desolation
May give way to salvation
Structures that once stood so proud
Their remains, scattered across the ground
The pups, Skeetah’s luck, have drowned
His dear China has yet to be found

She’ll return, she’ll return, she would not want him to yearn
For what was, or what could have been
The pain, like the rain, will wash away
The strongest bonds will be all that remains

A story spanning over a century
A story written on every leaf
Conveys the greatest joys and griefs
Tell how Earth lost a shade of green
From strangers to allies
And then to foes in the blink of an eye
Nearly branching off at suicide 
But that old woman remains alive



Pushing past the ashes, sifting through the dust
The tale of Maidenhair must
Be preserved in the mind of Watchmen
And who would bear the burden, but his friends?
The Goliaths of the forests fall
To the hands of the man who wields a saw
The racing revolution slows to a crawl
Yet something about it compels one to answer its call

At the end of the day, who could ever say
If the silence will be pierced by our cries
At the end of the day, could we ever say
That it was really worth it to try
To translate that hate and rage
To try to persuade what commands our fate
To ponder, to wonder about an endless mystery?
It’s the end of the day

Dusk

Originally written and performed by Bob Dylan

I Shall Be Released

The Rider, The Masquerader, and The Poet

Epilogue (Shortened Version)

Dirty Old Town

My band - https://open.spotify.com/artist/1zRZ1b35LOaJJiLZTlW8tK?si=2Z9EKhrCQNil67Le7ka44w
https://music.apple.com/us/album/mango-pineapple/1486025308

Cj Cunnane

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