fisher king's wasteland

here i stand on the street rapping off a neat beat tapping off with my feet tightly saving the seat for the king, with his crown the best meter in town more imperial than feet are the words i don't eat i just pick at the bones and avoid all the clones they're the rhymes that i've heard heard again, they're absurd it's the dirt of the word like a cheap, plastic bird in the mouth, it's worth less than the sound that you heard so i'll change what i'm saying it's the game that we're playing it's you wanting to think and my wanting to sink all these bombs that have failed to explode, to have nailed all my dreams to your mind in full colour, make you blind yes, i want them to sink into you, but they won't, so i'm calling it quits once i cared, but you don't

welcome to my sweet little mechanized state where the military industrial complex churns out weapons of hate we can wipe out all our neighbours before it's too late but only if we're weak enough to take their bullshit bait we march down perfect beachfronts singing ditties and love while panic and terror rain on from above when there's nothing to do but take off the glove and swing out at ghosts while we strangle the dove the macho men swagger while frail women swoon all stare disapprovingly as they pass by the loon he's smiling and laughing, what a buffoon! 'cause he's not willing to feed off the lies on their spoon for breathing and sighing there's definitely no time we're all paying the penalty for a victimless crime as our air and our water's fates turn on a dime and our fine arts are going the way of the mime [ original post ]

the wind blows blue sunshine into my heart as the seagulls sing that it's spring my jacket and windows are open to breathe it's the air of life living that's the thing right here and right now things will only improve and much later we can worry about ends it's a sine wave of life that we climb filled with joy to make up for the deaths and the steep downward trends the universe is as manic depressive as we it can't help it, you see, 'cause it's you so if you're alive and the world is in love then know that you're loving anew

ash? snow. whisps. then hints. a few more, followed on, by swirling gusts, like schools of fish, chased by the wind, fleeing the stars. then came the blizzard.

the epic eighties call me back into the dark beside the tracks chains rattle, steel grinds against steel the skies are open, and i feel . the winds of change blow through my soul which still exists, though not as whole its shattered pieces sucked straight through into the portal, shimmering blue . that connects here and now to you in future broken, remade new to order, by the devil's crew whose screeching dreams have become true i'm underground, trapped in a lair of sheltered homeless in despair transported daily to their rooms where they count hours into dooms . each quietly keeping their selves hid although sometimes they'll lift a lid to peek out, stare straight into you as you observe, they see a few . conceited, righteous, greedy folks who'd complain of some broken yolks when theirs are empty basket stews their solace trapped in cheap foul brews they don't know who, or where, or why inside they're warm, out there they die to ...