The gun has long been loaded
by physics and cosmology
the slate erasing world defacing
God’s own chunk of space debris
What has been will be once more
hell it might be what man is for
we might beat if we could just get organized
we could beat anything but we’re paralyzed
we see our little scraps as the center of it all
we think we’re making history, we’re just a pin in the wall
destined to be lost among the future’s dull addenda
unenlightened rejects with a fool’s agenda
maybe nothing will change, well nothing really has
are we really any better now
despite great wars and all that jazz
And we’ll stumble on our random walk
While our bullet slots the chamber
and our mark gets chalked
and the change will come the same
expected or not
locked and loaded while we slept
X marks the spot
what
No comments:
Post a Comment