M T
walkin the sun-bleached streets of this city
just walkin & watchin
seekin the cause
seekin any cause
but not findin much
vacant stares
a bitter competitive taste
& the over-powerin stench of
m t ness
you’d think a walk would help you escape
the isolation
it only makes it worse
all of us
hidin in our own mental caves
claimin to be part of somethin
cause we chew the same useless cud
that means absolutely nothin
& has no substance
but is oh so nicely
prepared & packaged
where is the force ?
the passion ?
the commitment ?
is anything goin on ?
what are we doin here ?
oh right, that’s what we don’t want to
have to think about
real existence
so we stuff down that prepackaged
reality that the media serves us
in an ever-expandin array of ways
so here we all are
passin time
but goin nowhere
fast
only thing is
this is our time
& we’re pissin it away
fat faded fools
bangin on the piano of death