There Were Wires Lukewarm Happy
If you could fathom the extent of subtle death in
altercations and masturbation...a full descent for the
masses, an oration for all we were. Dead convictions for
you and me, dirty hands and dirty minds. A smile fits
nice between soft spoken lies. Besides, we're dressed to
kill--ingest it all, we'll pay the bills. The conscience
dies. Impatience grows. The failures fit. The regret
shows. We're the human wreckage buzzing like flies, and
wear your best tie...the mood is cold up there.
