There is sitting in a subway station,
A man without no legs,
Says time is coming to an end,
And nothing is left to beg.
There is a woman who gropes at darkness,
Because she has gone blind,
Yet she does not remain heartless,
The chicken crosses before the egg,
Gone in a way are morels, gone are the old ways of life,
But since when did the future care about what was past and strife?
THE WORLD TEETERS INTO SALVATION OR OBLIVION
and yet all will carry on,
how jazz and love, alcohol, cigarettes and fire,
winks, and pills, and snowboarding,weapons wisdom, and wit
windows, soundboards, and violins,
arise from dirt and spit.
Into where this fucked up train rides us, I don’t know where
But i know that there is denied us the ability to say no,
that there is strength in endurence
That there is grace in keeping faith,
that wherever the world lands us, that it wil lead us to some welcomed fate,
Who knows what will or may not be
when the pall of eventide rises
when the seas boil over, and the sun no longer arises,
when the earth implodes and all the fish are dead
and all the dogs, cats, and wombats are gone
Who knows what endless silence will overtake
Because all we are is fire, and a song.