Fortune's Fool

from by horizon i

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The more I see, the less I know
The less I keep my lies in line the more I need the show
If only they would just and believe
they would understand and see the genius that I see in me
Nevermind the means
The more I speak the truth the less there is to say
The more that I pretend to give I really take away
(boo hoo, poor you, fortune’s fool)

….they’ve all moved on but he wont and probably never will…

Here’s one for the Self Made Loser; Usurer of the Saddest Songs
His Melody, of selfish misery wrapped in the malady
Go ahead, sing along

‘bout an hour ‘til close the kid strolls in
Soliloquy extols him, yet, this sheep in wolf’s clothing is a
Student and study in modern self-loathing.
Fortune’s fool picks a stool and bellies up to the bar
Now, the crowd has grown thin as the barkeep’s grin
No matter, booze patterned loose chatter is perfect for him
You see, he’s thirsty to complain or confide or explain his side
Of how the big, bad world broke his poor, pure heart
Woe is me with a smile is on tap for a while
round after round he sounds like a good guy at heart
but they begin to notice the tells of his script
and that he’s listening or interested in anything other than his own shit
and soon the wordless replies of empty stools and rolling eyes
are all that’s left of an audience misread from the start
(they’ve all moved on but he won’t and probably never will)

Here’s one for the self made loser; Usurer of the Saddest songs
He’s a melody of selfish misery wrapped up in the malady
Go ahead, sing along
Here’s one for the lonesome boozer; Abuser of the Saddest Songs
He’s a malady of selfish misery wrapped up in the melody
Best let him drink alone

His apathy? on cue
Your sympathy? his muse
Hey Jealousy, have ya heard the news?
It’s oh so romantic having nothing to lose
Performing live nightly at a dive near you

Through half empty beer bottles three rounds deep, stacks of shot glasses passin’ for half full dreams,
Local legends and old school cats with faded tats holding court for the barflies, the hangers on and the rats
He shoulders up and comers handing out numbers faded, not yet jaded, and puts up his sticker on a piss painted wall
Who cares, at least he can say he’s got one in there and he catches his eye in the mirror comin’ outta the stall
In that moment he knows he’s not the fairest of them all and he retreats as the fear hits him like a self aware wrecking ball
but the crowd is a boulder he just can’t push past, the door seems uphill he’s going nowhere fast . it’s a never ending struggle from the first breath to the last
all eyes are on him as he screams the only honest note that he’s ever hit.
I am fortune’s fool.


from Quitter, released September 1, 2015


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horizon i Phoenix, Arizona

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-The 3 forms of horizon i.
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