Oh, my, my, my, my machine heart in short what frauds we are - here comes the car – not a quickened pulse inside my chest it always stop it always stops
With a limping chance of happiness I’m hobbled by the echoes of the old unrest – not altogether taken with the way things are here comes the, car, here comes the car.
A hunger for the ages or a hole in your hand- a march to better places where we stop and stand – like pale unbalanced statues clewing words there is no space for my tongue poised while I’m filling at the contours
It’s nice to feel the sun on my back my paces ring clear with each foots impact – to cure the pain of fading was I born into this discontent and fostered it’s existence till I bore it like an epithet
Gave her my number with a nom de plume thought what better way to start a new life
Before things get heavy and the floor rots through – what better way to start a new life
Oh my, my, snow epaulets and scarf – we fought the north red paint and all – sitting Shiva for the old world, the old world’s gone – oh, my , my
Pocket change will clash for lack of spurs – I unravel with a laugh save your words- I know i tried