I'm trying to figure out
what they mean, by a concept.
It's completely alien to me.

There were the great artists
they drew sunflowers, landscapes
they drew the sunlight dancing on the slow river
but you think they went to bed each night
and dreamed of daisies and trees?
You think they sat alone staring
into the night sky and thought
about sunsets and rivers?
You think they didn't curl up
in the darkness and cry, just a little?
Like as if they didn't want to
give up and die, sometimes...

There were poets
they had concepts, didn't they?
That's what everyone thinks
just because
they gave us the idea
that there can be a paradise.
The places we can escape to
even in a daydream,
although they know as well as we do
that we're all too trapped
in our own fear to even wonder
if we deserve any better than the
dark, dank deserted living nightmares
that we've been made to accept.

Our lives don't seem to follow
any particular concept,
not really- do they?
They're full of lies,
and contradictions,
and it's only as we edge nervously
closer to death
that we begin to see past
the pretence and the lies
and perfection in disguise.
Dreaming of angels
living as devils
wishing to rise higher
but battering ourselves to the floor.
How does that work?
I'm sure there's some kind of concept
that we're supposed to follow
but I've given up on the
'supposed to's and the expectations
that drag us down
hold us back
and stop us from daring
to be there.

So a concept is just a way to live?
A way to think?
A way to push ourselves to the limit?
No- that's not what I want.
Don't stand in my way
and give me rules to live BY
give me a reason to live FOR.