A:
Life is sweet.
I know why.
It’s a joy to waste time.
Not much left to conquer.
Not much overcome.
B:
Nothing else caught my eye.
I was born to get high.
When the walls are hollow,
when the floors are gray –
A & B:
try to have a good time,
try to slip away every day.
(oh) No matter what’s coming down,
odds are good it’s come before,
the best option’s to ignore it ‘til it goes.
They say it doesn’t hurt to drown –
you just let your legs go slack.
It takes focus to relax.
Well, you know.
(oh, no matter what’s coming down)
The sidewalk will catch me if I act too rashly,
a cushion of concrete planting kisses on my feet.
(oh, no matter what’s coming down)
I’ll float like a feather through months of foul weather,
awoken, with teeth ground. That awful leaking brake sound.
(oh, no matter what’s coming down)
Metal cold, windows black – keep balance. Express track.
At home they are waiting for hours of self-negating.
(oh, no matter what’s coming down)
An endless attraction to pointless distractions –
comparing my patience to standby light constellations.
(oh, no matter what’s coming down)
My fingers keep sliding, somehow I’m still riding.
These minutes always last, while the months just stream past.
(oh, no matter what’s coming down)
The car shrieks and crashes – my coat pocket catches,
encrusted in clover, howling as we all turn over.
Go back to “Secret Weapon”.