Behind shaky worship heaves a bitter moon Motherwit and street smarts bloom Things fall apart the center cannot hold Women on rockets and the men all follow
There might not a file but they're keeping tabs on you oil on water and a turd in the Louvre Turncoats smile and then they grieve They dig your grave shallow so you can breathe Into Thin Air
The yellow sun will someday smolder red Cords and cables, steel and concrete lie useless and dead No worms and blood, bones and hair A pasteless shell powders into thin air Into Thin Air
