Tuesday, August 10, 2010

underground

follow the man blowing smoke at waves
he's dancing with Luna, he's proving he's brave
scoundrels visit the beach only at night
your floor's our ceiling and that's alright
underground ain't underwater
we breathe your air and we smoke with your daughters
we watch the world and we watch you
we see all the stupid shit you can do
but we're sick you see, the fatal plague
of thought's in us, what a shame

here and there

One could pick men, boys, like us off a tree.
The saying goes a dime a dozen, no?
Strange to wake up drunk, having fallen asleep sober, somber-
Or maybe belligerence is a philosophy, a mindset, rather than a chemical result.
I’ve been a chemist for years, suicide driven science gets you far,
all in silent, babbling place.
It’s about time to pick my feet up and see what’s down the street,
here and there, here and there.
But for now? We’ll sit, ramble and light up our souls with empty fulfillment.
Hurrah for the underground, after all. Hurrah.

Paper Hearts

While he’s asking what’s inside her head,
he knows she’s told him too much he didn’t know.
And here I am, too sure of what’s in yours.
Even the birds can’t keep up with that tail-shaking,
how can I? My vision’s blurred by these sarcastic paper hearts,
spiteful mementos of a month ago. It seems longer,
sure, but we burned out quick. And now,
my chest is burning, whiskey instead of you.
Forever together is a nice notion, but a laugh is quicker to please.
Please me, please.