there’s no rhyme or reason
still, season after season
and year after year
truth is treason
and we live in fear
and we fear shadows
and scarecrows
we hang our heads
and say, ‘only God knows’
and we sit and cry
wondering why
wandering, high
no angels fly around here
but still they get three cheers
at the old ballgame
and we’re getting older
and it’s all the same
and it’s all a game
and we’ve been played
for too long
memorized far too many
sad songs
and we sing along
until the record skips
we jump around
wondering why
the canoe has tipped
and we’re dripping
in polluted water
going to miss our date
can’t keep the
coal miner’s daughter
waiting
with black lungs
longing to breathe
free air
pick up dead canaries
and stare
out the window of the asylum
and I’m drunk
please give me a ride home
unless you want to roam
and ramble with me
go down to the Dead Sea
scramble these broken dreams
in shrinking fields
of olive trees
it’s a gamble it seems
rip these lungs out
I’ll scream
as you watch me sink
and maybe then
you will start to think
for yourself
read old books
long hidden
on lost shelves
covered in dust
storm clouds blowing
rusty bridges
going nowhere fast
we rage on
the machine can’t last
like the last cigarette from the pack
we’ll again become ash
after we crash
and burn
live and learn
I toss and turn
and lay awake yearing
for the next chapter…
soitgoes1984 