Aking Gentile Gentleman
Put up your defenses
those electric-fences
protect our gardens of garbage
best made men
like worms to a dead bird
flock into oblivion
I don't think that we've won anything yet
what are these rats racing against?
they just charge unquestioned
I never pay any attention
I never could punch straight through the door
more gentile than gentleman
not a lightweight anymore
my pulse slips
I'm taking care of business
when I look at what my wilted hands have sown
polish our pretenses
just to numb the senses
sweep the dust under the carpet
best love-wreck
your moods swing profusely
sweating the small things
we all say yes, yes in the end
what are these rats racing against?
I know that I'm just one of them
