Have you seen the depth I fell?
Do you know the truth I held?
As it vanished into the distance,
And landed with a death knell.

The jester walks the garden path,
Carrying the gullible in his boots,
The jester walks the garden path,
He makes them late as he commutes

He star jumps gleefully into the road,
The traffic comes he sees a chance,
He star jumps gleefully into the road,
For everyone to witness his deadly dance,

But they laugh and laugh and say he's them,
But he's not them for he is him,
He knows only a culture of owning,
A culture of convenience above knowing,
A world of gold and broken seams,
One where laughs distract from extremes,
He knows not empathy, or love or service,
Only a selfish desire to hold office

He knows not the energy he steals,
From those who pass it to him through laughs,
Those who have everything pulled from their heels,
While the jester stands and points at the giraffes.

The clouds hum in soft white,
As the sky sings electric blue,
With the strings played by sunlight,
And percussion by the meadow rue,

If I stare into the distance long enough,
Will these thoughts pass on to you?

There's a hurdler in the distance,
Approaching from afar,
Nothing struck him in this instance,
Though the setting was bizarre

He somersaults each in a flurry,
As the clouds threaten to rain,
The flowers flutter with worry,
As they sight the old warplane

He runs straight out the exit,
Takes a right onto an avenue,
Where streetlights line the docks,
And pebbles question you

Waves crackle over the pier,
As he flies across the decking,
He throws his hands up and volunteers,
To the cold hiss of forgetting

Some time later he awakes,
On a beach of pebbles and shells,
Hasty escape perhaps a mistake,
A fall from carousels

A tower commands the sea around,
Windowless, aged concrete,
He laughs and spins at what he's found,
Alive but incomplete

With this metal nonsense the case is lost,
The answers were held in the diplomat's loft,
And as he pulled the ladder down,
He was killed at the order of the counsel to the crown,

A flare thrown up, the crackling began,
It all collapsed as truth escaped in a van,
Glowing charcoal, stained metal and ash,
Are all that's left of the enlightener's cache

I'm sat here,
Wasting my time,
Thinking up,
Memories that rhyme,

The flag hangs,
There's no life,
A homeless man,
Silently declines,

The black on the bricks,
Historic pollution,
Endless talks,
But no solution,

Empty balconies,
A silent square,
The wind fills out,
A questionnaire

All kinds of things float above us,
There's a hurdle in the grave,
An apostle in the knave,
We've lost all molecular sense,
The postman cracks his whip and dances
The swimmer lost his flippers chancing,

All kinds of things float below us,
The saltwater trickles into the pan,
Hustlers tell us because they can,
Our ears take in everything
But our brains only some,
We don't pick what goes where,
We only know the depth of the dare,
We're lost before we've even begun.

All kinds of things float with us,
The man sits with his head in his hands,
Next to the grass plant,
As dust sparkles in the air,
And glides to the floor,
That's all of us,
And nothing more.