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| Thursday War All The Time For the Workforce, Drowning Falling from the top floor, your lungs fill like parachutes, The windows go rushing by, the people inside, They're dressed for the funeral in black and white, These ties strangle our necks, hanging in the closet, Filed in the cubicle, without a name, just numbers on a resume, stored in the mainframe, marked for delete. Please take these hands, throw them in the river, wash away the things they never held. please take these hands, throw me in the river, but don't let me drown before the work day ends. 'Nine to five' and we're up to our necks drowning in the seconds, ingesting the morning commute, lost in a dead subway sleep -- Now we lie wide awake in our parents' beds , tossing and turning, Tommorow we'll get up and drive to work, in single file with everyday just like the last; Waiting for the life to start, it's always just ahead of the curve... Just keep making copies, of copies, of copies, when will it end... It will never end, until it gets so bad that the ink fills in our fingerprints and the silhouette of your own face becomes the black cloud of war. even in our dreams we're so afraid the weight will ofset who we are. All those breaths that you took have now been cancelled in your lungs. Last night my teeth fell out like ivory typewriter keys, and all the monuments and skyscrapers burned down and filled the sea. Save our ship, the anchor is part of the desk. We can't cut free, water is flooding the decks. The memo's sent through the currents, computer's spark like flares-- I can see them but they don't touch me. Touch me, Please someone teach me how to swim, please don't let me drown. |
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