This is a dream.
Tranquility scrapes by with an eary aftertaste
as a desolate landscape shines burgundy-gold
i've heard of a place called home... yet never felt it,
helpless, i've clung to moonlight and dry skies
wondering why... everything seems to melt away
stuck on you're brain, silhouetted for days
melodramatic craze, that dissipates with purple fog
as the once subtle atmosphere turns wasteland
smog outlines a new way of thinking,
and humans become nothing more than vultures and pigeons
with feathers lost on the freeway.
never again will we taste a free day, fresh air, or salty sea
instead liposuction n' ill-flavored food made from hybrids
its suddenly quiet here...
And i don't think i am ready to behold the storm
as my dream flutters and twitches into a calamity motion
i'm standing under an ocean and an open vent
Spewing forth Bush administration plots,
a new era that reeks of rotten blood clots
so is this a convening message to help it stop?
or am i just perceiving a nightmare ready to be sold or bought...
hold that thought...