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hesperus - song i wrote at work lyrics
i’m a victim of vanity, my hands pop pimple glands with such force
that facial phlegm is divorced from its ports, and is launched into
orbit, watching the earth die with morbid curiosity
her bounty contorted by god and greed, want and need
flaunting histrionics and promises that we long to keep
but turn to tall tales like comets streaking beyond the deep
black of sp-ce where moons pace stone-faced on calloused feet
locked groove, movement in perpetuity to repeat
a sequence, bleak march of the ancients for a million years
as we rebuild babel with gravel, gri and resilient tears
until our thoughts become feelings, they fear the brilliance steer
cattle toward the slaughter with sophistry when we ought to hear
the mirror men, fourth sin reflects like an echo
boomerang slit necks when heads heckled in disbelief
feeling like the beef and the butcher
trample concrete cracks underfoot so leaves can’t push through my bubble
she sees me as a laid back kerouac in a tattered jacket
thinks that i’m a barrel of laughs, but in fact, my life is static
it’s less an act, more parallax from an odd perspective
god’s cotton boxers stay just as far from the laundry basket
left inside the room, but look closer from over here
and minds play tricks when there’s no more beer, and thoughts and
words tend to mince when herbs muddle on virgin palettes
her puzzles burden the mallet equipped, when the tools you
grip hit stakes and nails, a phillips bit brings failure
hems and haws, like tailors telling jokes, bespoke
confusion, artis-n-l riddles, are known to break
brittle brains, some in abundance, until the semblance
of oneness shatters like skeet plates well shot, in one fell
swoop, she makes off with the whole pot, it’s dark and
h-ll’s hot, not unlike summer nights in several states
sweaty legs create pretzel shapes as we lay awake
restlessly, i lay with vague visions of great escape
life’s reigns there for the taking, she knows me better than i know myself… and that’s real
go team! astral project into the student section while i’m sleeping through my lesson, but it’s cool, they said i could redo the test
we spent our best years investin in our futures, slurping ramen noodle soups when we were hungry like budapest
and like mung beans, new dreams sprout yearly as we ingest in jest or sincerely food for thought
that’s not beer brats, it’s more like broccoli, of which i brought lots of stalks to eat
we trot awkwardly pick trick or teat, knowledge flows liquidy for sprogs and nippers to sip bits from
and the mysteries of misery are fair game for mr. e’s quizzes cl-ss contains perhaps one half business kids
and it’s dumb how sh-t seems limitless, ‘til grapes taste lemonish, sour times create blemishes, and we make up sentences like, “i know what i’m doing when i finish this semester”, but things turned out different
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