Don't know what to say, or feel, or do
I never do
or do
or do
it just don't seem fair
when a restless outlaw wind
streaks fire in her hair
no it don't seem right
screaming scribes of the soul
they lift up the moment
dance like a demon
then
savagely
throw life away
all part of the act/tion
to press acceleration
until it's past blur
as if
in an act
of
stunning
subversion
you have finally
bought the myth
of your goddamn godhood
until it's past blur
as if
in an act
of
stunning
subversion
you have finally
bought the myth
of your goddamn godhood
some
trains
wreck
slow
ly
ly
but
most
are
too
too
fast.
and the sweet
ceremony
of innocence
(blood
sacrifice)
ceremony
of innocence
(blood
sacrifice)
gets
drowned
in
the
babble
of
fame
to die in a blur of speed
splashed on the wall
no better than a fly
just try
to see James Dean
inch thick on the asphault
a smile on his waxen face
don't know what the point of this-all is
but I know I won't sanction
this queasy twisting in my gut
for someone I never knew
or even liked
or ever listened to
is it better to fly
or die
or fly and die
or only
just
to
try
