My rhyme ain’t good just yet
My brain and tongue just met
And they ain’t friends, so far
My words don’t travel far
They tangle in my hair
And tend to go nowhere
They grow right back inside
Right past my brain and eyes
Into my stomach juice
Where they don’t serve much use
No healthy calories
Nutrition values
And I absorb back in The words right through my skin
They sit there festering inside my bowels
The consonants and vowels
The consequence of sounds
The consonants and vowels
The consequence of sounds
Got a soundtrack in my mind
All the time. Kids-
Screamin' from too much beat up And they don’t even rhyme
They just stand there, on a street corner
Skin tucked in And meat side out and shouting
I’d like to turn them down
But there ain’t no knob
Born into picket fences
Not into picket lines
All this hippie-shit's for the 60's
And another cliche in our time. But
But a one of these days your heart
Will just stop ticking
And they sorta just don’t find you till your cubicle is reeking
Did you know that the gravedigger’s still
Getting stuck in the machine
Even tough it’s a whole other daydream
It’s another town it’s another world
Where the kids are asleep, where the loans are paid
And the lawns are mowed
Whad’ya think?
All the gravediggers were gone?
Just cause one song is done
There’s always another one
Waiting right around the bend
Till this one ends
Then it begins
Squeaky clean, then it starts all over again
The weather report keeps on Tossing and turning
Predicting and warning
And warning and warning of Possible leakage from news publications and
Possible leakage from news TV stations
That very same morning right next to her coffee
She noticed some bleeding and heard hollow coughing and
National Geographic was being too graphic
When all she had wanted to know was the traffic
«The worlds got a nosebleed» it said
«And we’re flooding but we keep on cutting
The trees and the forests!»
And we keep on paying those freaks on the TV
Who claim they will save us but want to enslave us And sweating like demons they scream through our speakers
But we leave the sound on cause silence is harder
And no one’s the killer and no one’s the martyr
The world that has made us can no longer contain us And prophets are silent then rotting away cause