We are all heads floating in a tunnel,
For split seconds on ends, our shadows fit perfectly with the holes,
In the walls.
Let us cheer to the sweet decay in
our childish dreams.
Turn up the volume and carry on
Stuttering, sulking, seducing,
Snarking or just swim against the current with all of the baggage of the
Morning still crackling through your eyes.
Hold onto the rails, and dance across the nightmare of endless consumption
Sandwiches upon sandwiches within
Sandwiches.
We are all shadows in motion
To the gods of gravity and brevity
Our lives on hold a midst the commotion of gasoline tanks whirring
And, the forthcoming shortage of ambition.
The war is marching on
But who's got time for war,
In between the decadence of these slime-y streets?
Who's got time for war,
When you've got to put the kids
To sleep?