Stephen Covell A Format For The Future
I believe it's been precisely planned
The day the world will end
We'll all be vacationing holding hands
Lullabies sung by a steel drum band
And by then I'll have figured out
Why all I ever did was shake my fist
For no one to see when I read
Of a million dead so now what's left
Just a prodigal catastrophe
And if I sound bitter, please excuse me
But it's hard for the plants to imagine
Telling the forest to see itself through the trees
Can some one please hand me a clue
I've exhausted my ammunition
I've got so much left to do
But I seem to be lacking direction
Dry erase our history
So it's easily wiped away
Effervescent in its simplicity
How conveniently I forget
How I wish to be a boy again
Or to recreate the boy within
Someone who resembles, someone I use to know
But my inks soaked through my journal
The blood of my youth has all but escaped
Leaving in its wake tired poems
Grab what's to take and get going
Just a prodigal catastrophe
And if I sound bitter, please excuse me
But it's hard for the ant to imagine
Telling the forest to see its self through the trees
Can you excuse me please?
