Coming out of the streetlight

Stepping in to the of dead night

And your beautiful eyes

Screaming from the seventh story

Headed in on the downtown line

To where we meet at a quarter to nine

Out to where we grow

And enter the soft tomorrow

Casting shadows across the street

Stretching out hands to meet

Until you let me go

And return to the same old city

It’s dull and dark and it’s cold

Still running the same old mold

You broke when you spoke

Irony to all your lost hopes

You’ve still got your bright past

And I’ve got nothing that will ever last

I walked out the door
pushed up and out the floor
the sky still looks the same
but i just don't think the world works anymore
i can't hear
quite like i used to
i just can't see
as much as i need to
and i just don't think
the world works anymore

everywhere around me
the leaves fall from the trees
mothers, their knees
waiting
such a long time

but the spring
does not bring
like it used to bring the buds
the birds don't cross the floods
and mother's boy wont come back
because
the world isn't working anymore

the ground, still stable
the horses with a d
though, not a mother or a tree
will pull themselves back together
like they do
when the clouds clear
this year

Watching the world go by
and the eternal progress of it all
is just a facade
nothing changes
nothing grows that does not die
nothing advances without repressing another

and thought
has all been thought before

I can't be what I was born to be
because
life is a joke
and I cant live it to it's best
because
there is no best
there is not better
there is west
and wetter
and sweater
but, certainly
no better
I promise

creation
holds hands with
destruction

evolution
cuddles with
chance

while fate
and love
and god
all fuck away the night
all tight
all right
without
without
without
light
and
sight

someday, when I am gone
nobody will remember me
someday, when I am done
what movies I watched, what food I ate, what car I drove, how much I paid for gas, what I said to my neighbor, what I learned, what I do, all that I have done, will mean absolutely nothing
and, more importantly, for the record
no person will care
no animal will care
no tree
no dirt
no planet
and so forth
will care at all
nope

Because life does not have a purpose.
It sure has a beginning and an end, but no purpose
in essence, living at all
is just a waste of life.

When the world turns red
you're all dead
you're all fed
the lies of your fathers

when the night turns black
you take that
you fake fact
and you breathe in clear

when your earth spins
your feet grow
you don't know
how the sidewalk is made

but the lights all flicker
and flutter
and melt like
melting butter
the lights all fall and fade
like the pictures of your youth
so much truth

and there's no hate
and sorrow
but here
and now
and
tomorrow
brings a different kind of thought
a different kind of taught
and thinking
and drinking

I am
I am
I am

and I want to go back home.