E.A Rumfield
01-04-2013, 08:50 PM
As a winter sets in around the globe,
even in the tropics,
not necessarily frigid but lifeless,
it sets in for good
and all we have left to cast our eyes on
is our fossilized landscapes.
The puppet men dance and tell jokes,
feigning humanity,
they tell you everything is all right,
they dance an awkward dance
with a hand up their ***.
Mechanical men descend,
made up of collectives of men-like gears,
they descend upon us and block out the sun,
casting across a shadow of insanity,
they've read your mind,
they know your deepest dreams
and they sell it to you in an easy to swallow pill,
one after each meal with water.
As existence lets out one last desperate plea
in the demoralizing grip of disease
good men turn to the bottle
and the sea still washes up on shore.
even in the tropics,
not necessarily frigid but lifeless,
it sets in for good
and all we have left to cast our eyes on
is our fossilized landscapes.
The puppet men dance and tell jokes,
feigning humanity,
they tell you everything is all right,
they dance an awkward dance
with a hand up their ***.
Mechanical men descend,
made up of collectives of men-like gears,
they descend upon us and block out the sun,
casting across a shadow of insanity,
they've read your mind,
they know your deepest dreams
and they sell it to you in an easy to swallow pill,
one after each meal with water.
As existence lets out one last desperate plea
in the demoralizing grip of disease
good men turn to the bottle
and the sea still washes up on shore.