A messed up generation

I’ve based this poem on all the psychedelic songs that I’ve bin listening to the past year…also some of the older albums of Porcupine Tree, and partly their album Fear of a Blank Planet (this pic is from its album art too), that speaks of the hollowness that drug abuse has brought in our young generation…n therefore it’s purposefully vague, slightly obscure etc, as these kind of songs generally are…I hope my interpretation is right here :)…

The road spins, as the car refuses to yield,

A thousand colors explode within my eyes.

We stumble out of the wreck and fall into the field,

And already we’re soaring in the dreamscape skies.

As another syringe we empty in our veins,

We hear those fiery monsters growl in the night.

The trees bend down to hold us and soothe our pains,

In its warm embrace it all somehow feels all right.

Living in a world where a vial holds all of life’s joy,

A debt to the maker that we owe, but never really know.

Or at times nothing more than a volatile, expensive toy,

With its moments of lowly tramp and sagely halo.

To find escape from reality even before it has begun,

The soul, a quest that we never satiated.

Another person added to this messed up generation,

But different from the one that she loved and then hated.

At the happiest hour, we slip into that dark abyss,

Our hands red-hot and ice-cold at the same time.

Without more of this poison, every second Death’s kiss,

Every breath a nightmare, existence is a crime.

The world all now malignant, the moon gives us a frown,

The wind plucks at our numb skin, as the steep cliffs beckon.

As the misdeeds of a life, upon us come crashing down,

We decide to fly away from it without a reckon.

And as in the breeze, free as a bird we soar away,

Our beautiful inner voice finally sings to us from somewhere afar.

Ignoring the rush of air that pleads to us to stay,

We fall, to reunite with the earth whose children we are.