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Subtle
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Earthsick
A flash flood in a plastic egg,
this is the obvious boy hitting
I saw a man hop a barb-wire fence with a baby under his arm
A matress on the sidewalk next to a bike chained to a tree
Earthsick earthsick earthsick earthsick earthsick earthsick
(x4)
One out of three says I'm a lie
One out of three says I'm alive
(x2)
And the other third can't even say hi
And that's just a third of the time
'I haven't yet written the scene's that make up my movie.'
I'm american brood, 21st century fair
Mad rat, the latch, and fame of he in that flown maze
He shakes still coffee at the probable cigarette
this here is a banger for the lonely, my age, and in therapy
(Bang) Life grows in a cut
(And bang) But it's a sunny rut
(x7)
(Bang)
I don't care who thinks that it was them
t'was money made the light bulb stem
the final marble of math
does not go further than the loaf of bread
Wage
That's why I write lines for space
In zero denial
Come on tax-man repo this!
A twenty odd year young man washes his hands
He drew a line in the sand a foot from the water and said
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'Free trips from here to the ocean: 5 cents,'
then he threw up a stand, and made a few million clams
until a whale beeched at his feet
Then he judged and he quit and he walked,
buck-naked, back to the pert city
where he then bent a railing around his throat for protection.
See, what I was trying to explain was,
the way a boy on a bike floats across a busy intersection.
And all the world knowing that he's only late for dinner,
And all that balance unfurling across the sockets in his skeleton.
He's not the million parts soapy water of a bubble;
Not the nine-hundreth percentile
I saw a woman still reading Hamlet to her murmering baby,
Although I wouldn't know,
we were all watching a 64-inch screen play black;
No one's plane had arrived yet
I overhear two dying men with a lead whisper say
that there on the TV there? That's footage from the afterlife
live streamed straight over the child pipe
Wrists reeking of cut glass
It's the digital... Cut
It's the well water black of a digital clock
(It's the well water black of a digital clock)
(x8)
It's what happens
(x4)
The first lie is that you are unique in a remote way,
natural peace child
Squeezing the earth around it's skin shedding fist,
as soon as the stick came off the sand
They knew that there was that magnetic something to the number seven
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