Patrick Fleskes
Wasted Motion of Decay
I feel in times like these,
Un-ease, the world upside-down facin',
God's glaring naked gaze,
Bourbon soak'd decisions guiding society,
Down light-less tunnels, hushin' us sweetly with passin',
Comments of normality,
“It’s ok, ya still can breathe”,
But this atmosphere’s getting thin breaths in-between,
Prolonged submersion in napalm,
Get this damn earth a gas mask.
Just spent my last two dollars,
Last two dollars,
Gonna built me a cardboard grave t’ rest in,
Requiescat in pace,
As we’ll circle Hitchcook’s silver-screen’d drains,
Remembrance of past goldfish lives.
You an’ me,
At yardstick’s length, imagined laws,
T’ lines that aint never existed,
Even in your wildest, un-natural dreams surreal paint drip,
Wasted motion of decay.
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