There will be no further comment
No defiant fist will lift
These capitulating eyes will lower
Feet will shift and
To the lone thoughtful orator
We will give the shortest shrift
And let the soundbites eat the heart out
Of these lives that are a gift
We will settle, we will settle
For the bottom-line, for less
And we'll water ourselves down into the mess
A crow on every clock tower
A rook on every steeple
Shadows without shadows
Shoulders hunched toward the wind
A thick mist kisses office blocks
I look for other people
In that cold expanse of windows
Do they see me looking in?
In the dead hour
Pre-train and post-night bus
Will we let the morning papers suck the life out of us?
But could you try, when I die
To paint my shadow on the wall
And when these organs are defeated
Give the doctor free-for-all
Oh cut me out, cut me up
Little bits of me live on
In drops of paint upon a wall, in lines of song
A line in a song
Filthy streets cut dirty scars
Through gutless architecture
And the dead hour shift is fluoro, lit so sickeningly bright
Circles of the air, condensed are softening the coaster
Dust is just dead skin and hair
Leave your chair, take back your life
You see the buildings have begun to catch the light
Could you try, when I die
To paint my shadow on the wall
And when these organs are defeated
Give the doctors free-for-all
Oh cut me out, cut me up
Little bits of me live on
I can feel someone else's breath filling my lungs
Oh cut me out, cut me up
Little bits of me live on
My heart in someone else's chest, these lines in song
A line in a song
