This song was part of Fictitious Exhibition No.
5 curated by Rebecca Feiner (www.feinerart.freeola.com)
When it turned out the way it was going,
You cant tell me you were shocked.
The wind went the way it was blowing,
The foundations of nothing were rocked.
And the pundits
that leapt on their laptops
To point out the blame and the praise
Captured the moment in snapshots
Whose colours degraded to greys.
Yellow lights burn
on the plaza
Where no-one would willingly walk,
Developing into disaster,
A slice of an ersatz New York.
You do pick on
She said as we watched through the grille
The crackheads without any faces
Abandon their hope and their will.
It was hardly a century
When the waters were lapping beneath,
She caught the eye of our waiter
Who brought us our bill in his teeth.
In the South theres
a thunderstorm brewing
By a will thats allegedly Gods
But the newsman wont tell us whose doing
Undid all those unlucky sods.
of life on the boulevard,
Though none of it actually human.
As long as it still has a credit card,
As long as it keeps on consuming,
dream of calling last orders,
The DJ can keep spinning tracks
And the dealers and whores and defrauders
Keep dancing with knives in their backs.
When the outcome
has filled up the cupboard,
It comes trickling under the door.
The chairmans expression grows troubled,
He says, Bring me the head of the poor.
But the poor have
no room in their diary,
Theyre really tied up, Im afraid.
Theyre searching the woods for their fiery
Sword with the double-edged blade.
We set out to stand
up to tyrants,
For a life thats fruitful and whole,
And hour by hour the requirements
Of our endgame corrupted the soul.
Yes we fought for
a cause that was holy,
Or so we believed at the time,
Failing to see the way slowly
It turned to a species of crime.
come back for a coffee,
She said as we stepped off the bus,
So I got some beers from the offy
And that was the birthday of us.
Who sent you rolling
Weeping and shaking and bruised,
To bring me this tenderest feeling?
Well, Im grateful to the accused.
Well run through
the rain to the river
And under the bridge well be dry.
On the water the longing lights shiver
And the moments
arrive and pass by.
And the wind goes
the way that its blowing
Then turns back to see if weve gone
And the river has no way of knowing
And the moment arrived and went on.
to the present