|
I used this for a performance piece that had a guitar, clarinet, percussion and dancers while someone read off the poem. It was good but in a lot of ways I don't feel this poem is complete. 2+2=3 The end of the world Standing on a corner Nowhere to go, no time left to grow Everything is right before us Night's wrapping, There's movements in the shadows, It's that special time The final questions are being asked What does the end even mean? No more hangovers? Twist your head back in its place, this is our last chance It's too late for wishes The time to watch is over Let desires become motions There will be no sit-ins, no processions Tomorrow the earth falls off the edge And into the snake pit Buildings will burn Canyons will shake The rats will rise from the sewers Turn your eyes off Start loving the night Don't stop, don't ask Poise, dance, Attack, enchant We'll dance until the bomb drops, Foaming at the mouth Don't let your eyes get shifty, We're all spirits soft to the touch Fire, fire, fire Rise, rise, rise Why weren't we like this before? Did anything ever matter? The call for destruction's made us crazy Don't let rapture sway Stomp your feet All the rules are gone Twisted faces show through the woodwork As the moon eats through the streetlights Skyscrapers shrink in the fire 2+2=3 So that's it That different time of our fathers never happened What's the point in even talking about it anyways? It's been the end the whole time
|
#
¿
Nov 3, 2016 06:30
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ May 4, 2024 00:06 |
|