45*21

why suddenly the tools stop working
then I have to live in a frozen lie
it centers around this and it centers
us in it's night time glow of prose
beer tastes better and the company too
is in absence we scream in silence
oh what misery lies behind us all
we hope for no disasters but they come
not today though, just racing hearts
in elevators going to the moon
this is why we are so disenchanted
by the dream we are told to have
the one where it is all so real
and what is not real is really real
if that makes any sense
all the proportions wrong
and the mind stretches out from the mannequin
into the room and then the hanging night
a ball thrown against the wall
time and time again
and come back to that same old line