Privileged American Floors

Living constantly in a four walled room
that takes the same keys at all of it’s doors
see all our neighbors thru the windows
because nobody has decency anymore

and that same recipe calls for the two kinds of cake that everybody wants
so they can eat and have their food fight live

some eat with their hands

and some eat with their knives

and some just starve on their hamster wheels

quickly spinning blind

 

and me and all my neighbors

are Living on the grid of a hard wired hangover

and a stimulation high

of a sensitized extravagant soul

and zombified mind

wishing and hoping our cake gets its prize

and all the tenants run for the same door

but not till the shit gets tracked all over this

privileged American floor

we listen to music from paper mache singers
and we read stories about other zombies
and fall in love with vampires
and we think of Mao fondly

because we cant stand being alive
and the effort it takes to breathe
but we sure don’t want to die
and we clearly dont want to leave

our foreclosed house
funded by our virtual needs
and we keep watering
our rootless trees

and we just keep

Living constantly in a four walled room
that takes the same keys at all of it’s doors
and the curtains are waiting to be hung
because nobody has in decency anymore

and in our desperation we cant seem to get through those doors

without leaving shit on our privileged American floors

 

 

 

 

Standing in that place
where I had talked about moving

Staring at the place
where I just kept looking

I was waiting in the space

Where dreams come true

All those time they should

when they come looking for you

somewhere outside fairhope

We’ll always run these roads

We’ll always lay in this sand
And when we get old

we’ll talk about the beautiful

time when we were carefree

No matter how far we go

in our drunken minds
our turning years
in our bruised lines
and wild angry tears

We’ll grow old waiting
waiting in the space

 

so I never venture far

outside of Fairhope

outside of Fairhope

We’ll always run these streets

We’ll always lay in this sand

And we’ll stay young and free

and fighting the odds

and too scared to believe

that we might ever leave