I have a vaguely painful feeling
All my friends are going to die soon:
They said that we’d be meeting
Round the fountainhead at high noon.
The TV’s fallen from the wall,
Ask your questions of the bite marks
As tidal waves engulf a shore
Long abandoned by its lifeguards.
Hordes of dormant critics
Write reviews in vacant basements
Peppered round decrepit towns
They pick apart our statements
Under 1000 cries of hunger
So survey the scenery
Before we pump the plunger
On 100 tons of TNT.
I’m burning all the filing cabinets
With unbridled glee
And laminating rulesets:
Fuck, flight or flee.
And that’s just fine by me.
So blame the guv, blame the rum,
Blame the failing father figure
Whom you fear you may become,
But learn to run
If you must.
Walking all over the world
Is tedious.
