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A Decent Man and an Automatic Weapon
At the upper jaw I say
I'm just asking you why,
"Could anyone lend me a hand?"
Three people
So pleased to see me
Scowls in every other direction
It's ironic
Kind of an ~ironic macabre~
A gruesome stain,
hanging free in this milky way
When we're the sphere of life
And the rest compose the deserts
Things revolve around us,
seems so sad and hard of hearing
Tides tend to flatten the welcome wagon
When these dams start to shatter
We'll act so desperate,
just until the time is right
"Haven't you heard?" He said to me
"Armageddon's past, we avoided at all costs.
Humans are left to writhe in what the collective has lost."
Then he fled to sell his papers,
leaving me with an open palm
Breeze believes him, I wonder if I should
Nature seems to confide in him,
I'll wander on ahead
These strings of clouds I walk are dissolving
The crowds below banter on and on
In three seconds or more, I'll be falling
With ten thousand arms below,
and not a single one will try to save me
Not at their inconvenience,
not at their vital expense
Not even at their own pinch of effort
When the earth and I collide
I'll just be dead in a flatline minute
And that'll just be the end of it.
