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Description
Who we are isn't important.
Acting as swine, sweet devoid of a kind beat.
Or shy away like a common place household,
Fireplace of plastic, conning even the mantel piece.
We are as the bard's fable perceives,
Marketable yet able, oh so sharp, to deceive.
We can't even shower without feeling coastal.

Ground glorious with shrapnel shards of beer bottles.
Blinking, burnt-out porch lights on prickly nights.
Remnants of our lost legacies, and goddamn how we love it!
Love the shattered pieces of sustenance,
And love the somnolent sloths who dare not exchange that twitching bulb
With another mother of a saw lest they show a struggle.
Turn off that light, we can't see with it on.

----------

Show that man who's here and now our devout cow-like statue;
Debate about the ups and downs, the skies and undergrounds.
Jesus how we once got along, but didn't know each other then.
Almost as a zebra with no zeal, we dance amid the zealots.
Dance, zebra, dance, to the music of the diseased,
Who live in padded homes.
They sing so sullen and drowning in dull-flavored jello.

We depart, the sailors on their searching ship.
For eternity to boast alleges yet coasting on the unclear ledges.
Space ships are more fun, Mr. Sailor.
The frontier of the comfortable long gone with that storm,
Gone long ago when Dylan prophesized the wind and the times,
And the Lizard King taught philosophy to the keen.

----------

Why can't we have our own photosynthesis?
Absorb light and transform it into miracles.
All we want is babies and the winning lottery ticket.
Scabbing elbows, houses ablaze with white ribbons of tissue,
Who's to say that concern for the others burns in our minds?
Wanting is having with a little help from the mob.

We stand here with our stamps and butterflies.
Some wise with fear of a sudden breeze.
It may whisk away, cause risk beyond comfort.
A tunnel of common-ground might sound fun,
Never-ending, why can't we live in one of those?
Tunnels are a firm place to drink ourselves away.
Empty that juice box and add a shot of espresso.
Wake up and smell the drunks in the street.

Description
Who we are isn't important.
Acting as swine, sweet devoid of a kind beat.
Or shy away like a common place household,
Fireplace of plastic, conning even the mantel piece.
We are as the bard's fable perceives,
Marketable yet able, oh so sharp, to deceive.
We can't even shower without feeling coastal.

Ground glorious with shrapnel shards of beer bottles.
Blinking, burnt-out porch lights on prickly nights.
Remnants of our lost legacies, and goddamn how we love it!
Love the shattered pieces of sustenance,
And love the somnolent sloths who dare not exchange that twitching bulb
With another mother of a saw lest they show a struggle.
Turn off that light, we can't see with it on.

----------

Show that man who's here and now our devout cow-like statue;
Debate about the ups and downs, the skies and undergrounds.
Jesus how we once got along, but didn't know each other then.
Almost as a zebra with no zeal, we dance amid the zealots.
Dance, zebra, dance, to the music of the diseased,
Who live in padded homes.
They sing so sullen and drowning in dull-flavored jello.

We depart, the sailors on their searching ship.
For eternity to boast alleges yet coasting on the unclear ledges.
Space ships are more fun, Mr. Sailor.
The frontier of the comfortable long gone with that storm,
Gone long ago when Dylan prophesized the wind and the times,
And the Lizard King taught philosophy to the keen.

----------

Why can't we have our own photosynthesis?
Absorb light and transform it into miracles.
All we want is babies and the winning lottery ticket.
Scabbing elbows, houses ablaze with white ribbons of tissue,
Who's to say that concern for the others burns in our minds?
Wanting is having with a little help from the mob.

We stand here with our stamps and butterflies.
Some wise with fear of a sudden breeze.
It may whisk away, cause risk beyond comfort.
A tunnel of common-ground might sound fun,
Never-ending, why can't we live in one of those?
Tunnels are a firm place to drink ourselves away.
Empty that juice box and add a shot of espresso.
Wake up and smell the drunks in the street.