abt

; lyht leaves the eyes—expelled by a relentless laesr of poignant realisation that reality is but absurdism x impossibility.

Saturday, 28 May 2011

dead flag blues

The car's on fire and there's no driver at the wheel
 And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand    lonely    suicides
And a dark wind blows
     The government is corrupt
   And we're on so many drugs
With the radio    on and the curtains    drawn

We're trapped in the belly       of this horrible    machine
And the machine   is bleeding to  death

The  sun  has fallen down
And the billboards are all leering
And the flags are all dead at the top of their poles

It went like     this

The buildings tumbled in on themselves
Mothers clutching babies picked     through the rubble and pulled out their hair

The skyline was beautiful on fire
All twisted         metal

stretching upwards


Everything washed in a thin orange haze

I said, "Kiss me, you're beautiful..
These are   truly the last days"

You grabbed my hand and we
   fell
    into
       it
   Like a daydream or a fever

We woke up one morning and fell a little further down
For sure it's the valley of death


I open up my wallet
And it's    full of blood



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rarely do i post/read anything quite as abstract as the dead flag blues, but they are so beautiful.

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