Think

there’s no rhyme or reason

still, season after season

and year after year

truth is treason

and we live in fear

and we fear shadows

and scarecrows

we hang our heads

and say, ‘only God knows’

and we sit and cry

wondering why

wandering, high

no angels fly around here

but still they get three cheers

at the old ballgame

and we’re getting older

and it’s all the same

and it’s all a game

and we’ve been played

for too long

memorized far too many

sad songs

and we sing along

until the record skips

we jump around

wondering why

the canoe has tipped

and we’re dripping

in polluted water

going to miss our date

can’t keep the

coal miner’s daughter

waiting

with black lungs

longing to breathe

free air

pick up dead canaries

and stare

out the window of the asylum

and I’m drunk

please give me a ride home

unless you want to roam

and ramble with me

go down to the Dead Sea

scramble these broken dreams

in shrinking fields

of olive trees

it’s a gamble it seems

rip these lungs out

I’ll scream

as you watch me sink

and maybe then

you will start to think

for yourself

read old books

long hidden

on lost shelves

covered in dust

storm clouds blowing

rusty bridges

going nowhere fast

we rage on

the machine can’t last

like the last cigarette from the pack

we’ll again become ash

after we crash

and burn

live and learn

I toss and turn

and lay awake yearing

for the next chapter…

About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel.
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