Wednesday, May 23, 2012

longing for days that have already been played

Copy paste and decode 
symptoms of tomorrows non-existence 
sparrows running amuck in the fields that were called home
singing empty songs of yesterdays past

We play this field song like tribal drums in the mist
swallowing everything but the dust
sensing tomorrows dream but feeling the empty sense of it all
songs of yesteryear playing on the top forty
wanting dance and the sense of jive

staying is the best of this worse condition 
slumber in the mist we call fate
wallow with the pigs but do not get slaughtered 
those pearls will not get stuck in those throats 
we all whimper on the aftertaste

Forget the taste and follow along
seeking the gold that we can all drive on
longing for mansions and the coolest faze
wondering tomorrow if we can handle the haze
dancing with demons and the way of the west
not the six guns but the pimped out cool vests
sipping the song that will never play
longing for days that have already been played

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