Chapter Text
-----January 21, 2014; 4:26 PM-----
-----Zone 5 (Joplin, MO area)-----
"Mike, look, I'm so sorry I laughed at you when you told me your story. I was just shocked, is all. Please come back to me. I'm scared for you there all alone. Please, Mike? Anyway, love from Mom! Don't call back unless you're telling me you're coming home!"
I wanna puke so much right now. She's lying and she knows it. Sure, she loves me, but she'll never believe me.
Sometimes, I think she just loves me because I remind her of Dad. I get angry too easily, just like him.
I'm the son of rage and love
The Jesus of Suburbia
I really am, aren't I? Preacher of little beat-up towns. Sure, they help me around, gimme money, but only 'cos they need me.
The bible of none of the above
On a steady diet of
Just sorta sit on the couch all day. When the prophesies come, they come.
Soda pop and Ritalin
No one ever died for
My sins in hell
Far as I can tell
Least the ones I got away with
Sitting here, puffing on my joint, waiting for the hallucinations to start.
And there's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm s'posed to be
In a land of make-believe
They don't believe in me
A man, average height, wearing a blue jacket with bright, dyed red hair. It looks almost pink in the sunlight. A yellow mask covers his eyes, and he points his ray gun right at me. It goes blurry.
Get my television fixed
Sitting on my crucifix
A taller guy, a helmet covering his face labeled "GOOD LUCK", holding me by the neck against the wall at least two feet off the ground.
My living room
Or my private womb
While the moms and brads are away
Another man, mask pulled off, with a mischievous smile, pointing a knife at a drac, then flinching as he killed him.
To fall in love or fall in debt
To alcohol and cigarettes
And Mary Jane
To keep me insane
Doing someone else's cocaine
Billie Joe and Adrienne, hands in the air as dracs cuffed them and led them inside a shack, probably to kill them.
And there's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm s'posed to be
In a land of make-believe
They don't believe in me
All six of them around me. I'm being interrogated, asked all sorts of questions.
The word killjoy, over and over again, hurting my head, numbing my brain.
Killjoys.
Killjoys.
109 in the sky, but the pigs won't quit ...
I awake from my thoughts, muttering curses under my breath. My joint is used up (where's Two-Dollar Bill when I need him?), and my high is wearing off.
“How long was I out?” is all I think to say.
This isn't something I declare to the people in this town.
This is for me. I finally had a vision about me.
I go the one place I know I can get some privacy...
At the center of the Earth
In the parking lot
Of the 7-11
Where I was taught
The motto was just a lie
No, not the parking lot itself. There's a shit-load of people there. I'm headed for the bathroom.
It says home is where the heart is but
What a shame
'Cos everyone's heart
Doesn't beat the same
It's beating out of time
I lock the door, and get out my crayons. I'm pretty sure they're never gonna realize that I'm the one who vandalizes the bathroom every time I need to figure out a prophesy.
City of the dead
At the end of another lost highway
Signs misleading to nowhere
That's the first thing that appears on the wall. My town. The nameless little town where everyone has thrown their life away on cigarettes and alcohol.
City of the damned
Lost children with dirty faces today
No one really seems to care
They're happy like that. I mean, it's as close as you can get to Battery City without actually going to Battery City.
I read the graffiti
In the bathroom stall
Like the holy scriptures
Of the shopping mall
And so it seemed to confess
After awhile, there's a reasonable amount of stuff on the wall. I look at a spiral I frantically drew.
It didn't say much
But it only confirmed
That the center of the earth
Is the end of the world
And I could really care less
This town's gonna die. They're all gonna die.
City of the dead
At the end of another lost highway
Signs misleading to nowhere
And it's all gonna start here, at the 7-11.
City of the damned
Lost children with dirty faces today
No one really seems to care
I leave the building. I didn't get any answers to my question, but I got some useful information.
I tell them my prophesy, and immediately one comes out and shouts, "Who cares?! We're all dead anyway!"
I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't
CARE!
I think that to myself, but tell them to worry. They yell, "I don't care!!"
The prophesy takes over. I can no longer control my speech.
"Everyone's so full of shit!
Born and raised by hypocrites!"
Some seem angered by this.
"Hearts recycled but never saved
From the cradle to the grave!"
It's true, they do the same thing over and over again.
They respond:
"We are the kids of war and peace
From Anaheim to the Middle East
We are the stories and disciples of
The Jesus of Suburbia!"
Yeah, right. They don't believe this. They'll never believe this.
A guy shoves me. I smack him in the face.
Land of make-believe
And they don't believe in me
Before long, it's a full-on fight, and people need to restrain us.
Land of make believe
And they don't believe
And I don't care
I say, "Y'know what? I don't care!"
I repeat it the whole way home:
I don't care!
I don't care!
I don't care!
I sit in my room, thinking over my decision. I know it's the right one, but it seems morally wrong to leave these people, even after they've openly admitted that they don't care if they die out here in Nowhere-land.
Dearly beloved, are you listening?
I can't remember a word that you were saying.
No respect for anyone, especially not authority. They use me to keep making money gambling, or to say how many drinks one can have without dying, or something idiotic like that. But when I say that doom is imminent, they could care less! Who the fuck would even- I don't know...
Are we demented or am I disturbed?
The space that's in between insane and insecure
The sad thing is, it's not like I'm incredibly responsible or anything. Before the bombs, I got more detentions than any other kid in my school. I swear, my responsibility is limited to making sure that me, mom and Billie are- that is, were, okay. Because I have no idea where the kid is at this point; I can only assume he's with Adrienne. And those people.
Oh therapy, can you please fill the void?
Am I retarded or am I just overjoyed?
And now I'm here, in a town where people get high on the craziest shit on earth- no joke: the other day, I saw some dude get high on the stomach acid from a dead cow he'd found. I'll stick to weed, thanks.
Nobody's perfect and I stand accused
For lack of a better word, and that's my best excuse
Well, my bags are packed. I guess I have no choice. And I need to find those people, anyway.
To live and not to breathe
Is to die in tragedy.
I slowly walk toward the door. Why am I so reluctant?
To run, t
o run away
To find w
hat you believe
I need to do this; it's fate. And, y'know, I'll die if I don't.
And I
Leave behind
This hurricane of fucking lies!
The liars, the thieves, the nonbelievers. Why should I be sad to leave?
I lost my faith to this
This town that don't exist
So I run,
I run away
To the lights o
f masochists
They don't want a prophet. The place I'm supposed to be probably does. They'll definitely take me seriously.
And I
Leave behind
This hurricane of fucking lies!
And I
Walked this line
A million and one fucking times!
But not this time!
I've contemplated this before. But this time, now that I'm actually doing it, it feels different. More to hope for, more to fear.
They don't deserve my sympathy anyway. I should just walk out of here.
I realize that if I simply take a step forward I'll be out of the house. Reluctantly, I put one foot outside.
I don't feel any pain
I won't apologize
When there ain't nowhere you can go
Runnin' away from pain
When you've been victimized
Tales from another broken...
The other follows it, and now my choice has been made.
You're leaving…
I walk out to the car and enter, slamming the passenger door after putting my baggage in.
You're leaving…
I get in, and ignite the engine.
You're leaving…
I put the car into reverse, and back down the driveway.
Ah, you're leaving…
I finally right myself on the road, then I shift gears into drive, and I'm off.
Home