we’re the playboy generation
chasing life with life
though we’ve been stoned
by stony bones

I’m servant and lord
of this body, my station
that gives me my life
but never vacation

why swans become mates
my cold heart can’t comprehend
and the willows weep

if life was a game
I’d play my cards with precision
instead I often lay my hand
webbed by obscure tangents

I have known room 101
black holes sucking in the Sun
cess-pit oceans without shore
devils stalking creaking floors

some folk will love you
some will detest you
plenty just won’t give a damn
as you ride on the tides

My life has been captured by soul’s Purgat’ry
Confused by the debris that’s strewn in her sea
The Future just mocks me, the Present’s despair
My Past’s webbed, deluded, my mind sags with care

I find no rest in my external world
no surf among its rip-tides
or graces in supposed holy places

they could have told the People
just so that they’d know
today there’s gonna be a bomb
outside your bloody door

tried digging a hole in the ocean
so done with the game in the pond
tried building a tower of Babel
tried waving a magical wand