56: A Common Pasttime

Deja vu tunes on the FM radio (been sung before)
Modern hearts perform to the seats' content
And they clap, we clap, I clap to the resolve
Muted by satin, and the thread of solitude

55: word of the mouth!

word of the mouth!
hear the gospel-boy singing out
his heart to tunes of our rumour-fueled views

the constant need to be surrounded
by inflamed truth and the expansion of others.

to make ourselves full of that which isn't.

to make us consider the placement of time,
to envelope it all in surrendering media army.

let those soldiers do their march
and their sins will be forgiven
in our masses at the 6 O'Clock News.
those priests ought to hang themselves with those lies
spewing from the anchorman's desk.
take the microphone and run, just don't be frigid.

54: Roof Top

When we climbed up the roofs
and looked over down --



but we didn't, we just looked over storm cloud ideas
viewing downtown illumination.
Bright lights that lived to tell the tale
of urban life and love and work and the passing of.
Glamourous lights, rich with electric clarity,
imagining ourselves in their position
and secretly wanting to finish off the deed.

53: Yards

Time gambled, fear played, voice withdrawn to a shape.
Old relations, trees whistling dust, wind sleeping, defunct mischief:
Grab the gun, son!
Get 'em all awake!
Dry those clammy hands, give that man an old hit.
All else is loaded, but the pop-cork bang - insignificant.
(1, 2, 3)
You see?

52: The Mix

Set down the beats: your mistakes are perfect
the critics' acclaim is not in denial.
The luck that was fished out belongs to you
and your humble wayward soul.

Still, we need to be classified
and we can't have you here mixing palettes of sounds
and expecting nothing from no one.
Aall rest still follow, but you follow them, too
into that drowning faith
that gathers the millionaires and locks out the gates

It's too bad that you're not into it, I am torn
between what you wish, and what I want.