Cats in the Cradle

The cats get the Cradle the beetles get the bread and the cherry-cheeked children, the children all are dead The world is growing smaller the Sun is getting hotter it is all a fault of ours a fault of ours so faulty falling gently, screaming, kicking to the ground so we give The cats the Cradle the beetles get the Bread and the cherry-cheeked children, the children all are dead Men are exploding children are smoking– smoking needles eating beetles black and pink Beatles The Beatles all are dead not the legend, just the passion so instead we give The cats the Cradle and the beetles to the bread and the cherry-cheeked children the children all are dead because the world turned upside-down all together, upside down sons in shoe-heels lipstick jungles deep violet secrets girls in pants panting running from understanding caring claiming you are open-minded too open-minded to mind the option of a closed mind so instead, kill the trees for the cat’s cradle feed the beetles to the bread since all the cherry-cheeked children and their childhood: all dead.

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