The tenderness, the violence The symphony of silence Humanity becomes a bore A symptom of a plague A chore Suspended on a wire, in a hurricane ...And I walk the same wire High above the same fire Happiness and peace, my balance rod The arbiter is the storm Love is the eye, so warm Some have the nerve to call it God And in the same breath The force of Coriolis What's left, what's right, and who can tell? The fault line splits Through the mantle, lava pits Some have the nerve to call it hell But it's NOT MY SPIRITUAL GUIDE! No it's NOT MY SPIRITUAL GUIDE! Oh no it's NOT MY SPIRITUAL GUIDE! What do you do with the mad you feel? Do you store it up until It bursts out, purging like the rain? Do you do the same with love? Pour it out in buckets of Trust. lust. over rusty pain I get it wrong too I gravitate to panic, fear Half empty bottles, waste But I know in my heart These two sides shall never part Some have the nerve to call it faith But it's NOT MY SPIRITUAL GUIDE! No it's NOT MY SPIRITUAL GUIDE! Oh no it's NOT MY SPIRITUAL GUIDE! The tenderness, the violence The symphony of silence Humanity becomes a bore A symptom of a plague A chore Suspended on a wire, in a hurricane But it's NOT MY SPIRITUAL GUIDE! No it's NOT MY SPIRITUAL GUIDE! Oh no it's NOT MY SPIRIT-SPEAR-RITUAL GUIDE!