Signs of a Delusional Mind

Not only is it the title track, but this song also serves as the climax to Dead Poetic's CD, ending the album on a beautiful and raw note. The lyrics are revealing when read carefully as to what Brandon Rike was feeling as he wrote the song - feelings declared in his message on Dead Poetic's MySpace blog (check it out here). Yet, despite this very real basis for these words, I believe on some level we all can relate to it - at least I certainly can.

People tend to form certain expectations as a result of what they hope. We define, we declare and anticipate by our own biases, not realising what is truly going on beyond what we want to see - we blind ourselves to the truth while we watch with hopeful eyes to see our desires fulfilled. Like young children who worship their parents, we look upon others with the expectations that arise from the demands we place upon them - when it is not necessarily the case that these people are as perfect, as holy and as wonderful as we would like them to be.¹ The same of course goes for parents who believe their children are as perfect as they hope - or other family members or even friends who create certain ideas based on notions, traditions and beliefs. But we're all human, and we all have our vices - we all have our faults, inadequacies, and failures.

We may never live up to others' expectations, or even for that matter our own, but there is peace in knowing that we are not alone. In fact, Christ is quite familiar with the struggles we go through and the vices we face; He is not one to blame us for our faults - He redeems us in the midst of them - even when we try to push Him out. In our darkest hours, He is our strength and remains our Lord, our Saviour, our friend.

Vices / Dead Poetic // Vices

feeling cold,
feeling empty.
set the stage
where you want me.
and this crowd
right before me
doesn't care
that i'm dying.

and the audience
stands with their eyes fixed
on a preconceived
version of me.
i'm so betrayed by your hopes,
but i
will not hide myself
for your peace of mind.

oh, but child,
i've got vices like any other man.

raise a boy
to a cynic,
take his love
and then let it
turn into
something passionate,
something sick,
something rabid.

and i vent
to keep myself from caving.
i don't hate you,
i just hate where i'm headed.
i'm left here asking
when did i trade in
my bleeding heart
for a selfish win?

oh, but mother,
i've got vices like any other man.
vices that you're not used to;
vices that'll make you think less of me.

leave me numb,
leave me jaded;
she's the dream,
i just play dead.
i've been blessed,
i've been hated;
she's the constant
and i'm her addict.

she's the only peace
in this world uneasy
while i bite my tongue
to keep from breaking
the heart that ispent my whole life seeking -
the only hearti've ever needed.

oh, but lover,
i've got vices like any other man.
vices that you're not used to;
vices that'll make you think.
oh, but lover,
i've got vices like any other man.
vices that you're not used to;
vices that'll make you think less of me.

less of me . . .

feeling cold,
feeling empty;
i am low,
unworthy.
bleed the god,
bleed the blessing -
like a vulture,
feasting.

i'll resist
as if i don't feel conviction
of my ignorance
to my perfect prison;
but i feel the stabs
on my wrists and ankles
every time i try
to forget You.

to forget You . . .

oh, but Jesus,
i've got vices like any other man.
vices that You're so used to,
vices that won't make You think less of me . . .

1. This of course is not to say that I don't think my parents are wonderful, amazing parents - I love them so terribly - but they're still only human and have learned, despite many surprises, not to expect anything more than human.