A/N: Okay, so I'm not entirely sure where I was going with this one. Was watching the video for the song 'Jesus of Suburbia', and ideas started to form within my mind. I present this as a possible for our dear Gazza, as that's all we have, possibilities. My standard disclaimer applies, especially since I really don't own this song.


Part I: Jesus Of Suburbia

I'm the son of rage and love

His parents were fighting again, it's all they ever seemed to do nowadays . Argue and fight and yell and hit, but then, he couldn't remember a time when it had been any different. But they loved each other, they must have, at least at one point in their lives. They wouldn't have married if they didn't. He knew the truth, he was the problem, the source of the hate, the son of rage and love.

The Jesus of Suburbia
The bible of none of the above
On a steady diet of
Soda Pop and Ritalin

The doctors fed him diets of pills. Every month a new diagnosis and with it new pills and new treatments. He had seen no point in any of them, he wasn't exactly in pain, and he wasn't hurting or infecting anyone. The drugs didn't work, they never worked, and he grew immune to any effects they might have once upon a hope had.

No one ever died for my
Sins in hell
As far as I can tell
At least the ones that I got away with

His mother cried each night, screaming at him that he was a devil child, not fit to be part of the good and clean society they lived in. He didn't quite understand that. As far as he knew, his only sin was the one he had been born with. Surely then it wasn't his fault and he was forgiven for it? Or had he gotten it all wrong again?

But there's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm supposed to be

In a land of make believe
That don't believe in me

He didn't understand why he was the one who was 'wrong'. In his own, albeit it odd, mind, he was perfectly normal, it was the rest of the world that was weird. He often wished he could slip into the world he dreamed of so often. In his boat on a river, with tangerine trees and marmalade skies, cellophane flowers of yellow and green towering over his head. If he closed his eyes, and allowed himself to be drawn further and deeper into his perfect dream world, he could hear someone calling him, a girl with kaleidoscope eyes. But whenever he tried to answer, he would wake up.

Get my television fix
Sitting on my crucifix
The living room in my private womb
While the Moms and Brads are away

Brad was one of his mother's work mates, tall with a grave and charming smile, and a suave way of talking. His mother fell fast and hard, spending less and less time at home, and more and more time at Brad's penthouse apartment. He knew that she spent so long away because Brad offered a life which didn't include a mad son, a wrong and wicked son. It was the beginning of the end for his parents, and it was his fault.

To fall in love and fall in debt
To alcohol and cigarettes

And Mary Jane
To keep me insane
Doing someone else's cocaine

The pills that the doctors gave him may not have worked, but the ones that the man gave him took him to new places. He dulled the dreams, a childlike thought in his mind thinking that if he could prove himself normal his mother would return to his father, and that they would be a family again. But he was too old for childlike thinking, and he knew his mother would never return, and that things would never be the same. He often wound up in the company of others who used, and who drank, and a pretty girl who smiled at him and whose laughed glittered in the air. Together they smoke, and drank, and danced in the dark. It wasn't love, it wasn't even like, it was lust, and a primal need urging them on. When both were spent they dressed, and went on their own ways.

He never knew her name.

And there's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm supposed to be
In a land of make believe
That don't believe in me

He glared at the pills that did not work, drawing harder one the one that did, nearly overdosing when the dreams threatened to come back. He distanced himself from his perfect dream world, ignoring the safety he felt there. It was a land of make believe, and make believe was bad, and wrong, and wicked, and sinful. He was a son of rage and love, hate and peace.

He had to forget that he was who he was supposed to be.