let's gather 'round the carcass of the old deflated beast
we have
seen it through the accolades and rested in its lea
syntactic is our
elegance
incisive our disease
the swath endogenous of ourselves will
be our quandary
we've nestled in its hollow and we've succkled at its
breast
grandiloquent in attitude
impassioned yet inept
frivolous
gavel our design
ludicrous our threat
excursive expeditions leave us
holding less and less
so what does it mean? when we tell ourselves
it's only for a while we have been deceived and it's only for a moment
that the treasures of our day make life easier to complicate
the
treasure thrown away
i'm so tired of all the fucked up minds of all
the terrorist religions and their bullshit lines
of all the hand-me-
downs from all industrial crimes and the weeping mothers and those who
aree led som blind
from the plastic protests and the hands of time
and the pursuit of mirth and all hating kind