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Utopia, or the Vomit that Pools Below It
Dead men and women line the streets
Only to fall, they land on their feet
The skyscrapers once shined so tall and so bright
These days they're but ruins fallen out of sight
The hussle and the busy and the echoes, they fade
The money is gone with the potential it gave
The mantra and the drama disrupting the buzz
All the dread forgotten and littered among us
I was in bliss among the traffic and the glitz
Dreams and let-downs at the tip of my fist
A figure with a vision as disruptive as it sounds
He who could weep whenever the circus comes around
A mistake in the crowd with hood up and morale low
Laughing as the bus wraps about the telephone pole
Since my excursions I've been subject to change
A rising gloom may be cause for delay
And as the bodies rot and the entrails coil
My last bit of pity was drowned in motor oil
And with sympathy left bleeding I'll kindly take my leave
Clearing the vomit and ignoring the deceased,
While that putrid stench just makes it harder to breathe.
