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A light that won't stop shining is not an eternal flame.
You fly too close to it time after time but times have changed. Time's up! Time was you were like a lion but now you paw and growl at tourists from a cage.
It's alright; society's on your side but you're so naive that it's almost wild!
It's time for you to pick up the pieces you left of your life. it's a mess. it's an island. I seem distant? Jesus Christ, this is not a "big talk;" take your stuff or it's mine, or it's straight to the dump, where your comics and vinyl won't ever decompose, at least not before I will. Promises, promises, yeah, it's a joke. But it's getting hard to breathe sometimes with the smoke;
You should know.
Nature's ambivalent vacuum beats out its sadistic tattoo yet you remain unmoved,
Stiff as a statue.
Who claims they can tame this beast?
You just wait til we take to the streets. See,
Conflict and crisis is most of what life is,
But wild hearts and minds can't be broken with violence.
They said I can't go home again
Not even for a moment
Well I for one am over it
I'll be outside.
If you need me, you can find me
Hiding like a followed child.
When my eyes are wide and fiery,
Then you'll know i'm almost wild.
"In the jungle,
I lived like a savage."
But that is somewhat ig-
Norunt and romantic.
I'm more of a puzzle;
A creature of habit.
But brusque and nomadic.
Torment and struggle's
A primordial calling;
These poor things love it,
And the carnivores are ALL IN.
No more academic fights;
You glossophiles do too much talkin'.
We rose to such great heights
It's almost wild the way we've fallen!
In this position, we're curiously vulnerable,
Not that we've ever been truly afraid. And
Yet the impact of the trauma we struggle to
Capture and translate seems foolishly vague.
Under this pressure we wobble and waver and
Warp until no one can recognize us.
Sometimes I wish someone would just replace me
With plastic like all of the rest of my stuff.
A bawdy limerick becomes the national anthem,
But Gershon Legman's long since dead in the back of a van at the Vatican. You hate to laugh, but these so-called mystics, maguses, and masters just gape aghast in paper masks and say "This can't be happening!" cause everything is backwards, as if it even matters. Nobody is safe when every moment's being captured. You can take the facts you're given, and look surprised when plants act panic-stricken,
Or stay steadfast and passionless, with the sangfroid grimace of a mannequin. 'Til then,
If a light doesn't ever go out, and they're calling it a boon, it's a bane. But I, being ever profound, went and found you a balm that'll soothe your pain. Now I may not be the cleverest around, but if helps you process it, I'll explain: Hands steady, lips stiff, elbows out then just flip the switch when it goes down!
Perched in the canopy, listening for movement.
Life's endless tragedy, nasty and brutish.
Anguish and agony, famine and ruin.
Your fancy fantasies are pure illusion.
Fictions and fallacies sans attribution
Are no substitute when the facts are elusive.
Though some may reject, miss, or eschew the truth, it's prudent to accept it: humans are stupid,