And then he came again...
The turtle headed street car, as it lumbered through the
out of the land of misery, slowly made it's start.
The empty endless agony, of things that came apart,
those many other empty things, that didn't have a heart.
The open minded sorcery, that made flames in the night,
twisted magic memory, the spirit of the fight.
Of all the open neon, that spilled upon the street,
volcanic vomit landed on my feet.
Infinite pleasure plunders even empty men,
whose sodden eyes
are open, to the pillage once again.
Mister misery came before us, and all that said goodbye,
the vacant strangers, that never meant to die.
Once the hamstrung heroes, were meat out in the street,
tundra trudged in turmoil, would simmer in the heat.
The shattered hour glass, seems to've lost it's sand,
pages on the calendar, the clock without no hands.
The vacuum of the moment, the void between your eyes,
endless cacophony, and lunacy of the wise.
The waves roll unceasingly, turning mountains into sand,
broken hearted beggar, the one without no hands,
towards me, leglessly he stands.
Never more to be here, banished now he's gone,
as the drifting
milkweed, dying on the lawn.
His plexiglas complexion, sterilized by dawn,
draws an empty
promise, forever more be gone.
The wisdom of the warriors, eating up their dead,
of the foolish ones, who should've kept their heads.
Comes upon us needlessly, let nothing more be said.
Echoes of the dustballs, as they rolled on down the
forty years of famine, forty years of rain,
score years of plain old fear,
and one whole day of pain.
The fraying of the wires, and the twisting of the knife,
endless drip, drip, dripping, the whore that is the wife,
those those other pretty things that keep us all alive.
Tumbling broken buildings are decaying in the street,
rust upon the crust, of scabs of festered meat,
and all those
hungry eyes who say, your soul I'd like to