When I become like Afghanistan
The colors still mix just right for the perfect consumer
Sometimes we play the nail and sometimes we play the hammer
Sometimes we spit up
While looking at God
But when you feel the blows then things start to turn
Not a conscious formation to a pre-cortex with hypoxia
Do I turn, for you? Or for who? Or for something else? Who has the script? The play is in the headset, ugly
Let’s begin with one statement that I want to be known:
There’s a drunk who pushes all the bloody buttons I want to push
He’s going to lose his job, however, and soon
And if I told you that I’ve met him, you’d say I’m a liar
Because my reality has become just that
When I was young and dreamed and thought about the ghosts
So now sitting in a bomb shelter
With everyone telling me to keep the pressure up
Those who want to fuck me
Those who fuck me
Those who fuck me over
Those who fuck me while fucking me over
Those who fuck
Miscreyentes who I’m used to now
Just like you have have hardened to them
A part of the cover story becomes the whole act of reinventing
Cowards hide from things they fear so
Finding something beyond that
Moving on now for the sake of it
Passing it along to something new
Or brand new
Cowards is a word that unravels some, badly, almost to a childlike state
When I talk to the old man with all the wisdom but with none of the money or fame
He always ends up picking up his lukewarm drink and telling me
Always like infinitely - because I have no capability to measure my words
You’ll never lose if you don’t try to win
So I don’t believe the old fuck
I just sort of look at the poor, old fuck
Hoping the day moves on
And that’s only one part of it
Weapons
A fun tale
Someone to nod their head approvingly
Move across the world with just that, and tell me you’re not number one
Hey, the void
Thank you for being here to remind us
Just at this moment
At this very, precise, moment
That this whole tree grows on electricity
That the power, from this, is from the same place and nothing can be said to diminish the finality of it all
How none of this will be here after cocktail hour
Unless committed
To a place where you have to check in your credentials
And they serve only garlic bread and cigarettes
Along with your information and a government stooge
Or to the memory hole of some passenger in our life
Who just took a piece and then took it and never thought about it again
Not even in passing, not even fleetingly
Not even once did they think about that one thing you/me/someone did
That whole event
A ghost let’s themselves be seen
Perhaps the drugs that they filled us with in the school lunches - or the medicines mom and dad believed in - made us lose this sight
With glimpses and shadows
Just shoulders and elbows
Of the other jumps into ponds of electromagnetism we can still jump into
With just more budget or oversight from the c-suite, perhaps
Without having to take off more than we ever had to
Because modest is hottest