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Who Needs Sleep? before/after Cumulonimbus trying to grow on the horizon. My notes, my steely notes sally forth, the notes steel, made steel from my slide, but not my steel guitar. I like the steel guitar blues, my baby of chrome and steel who never leaves me and hums when I open up her case. Baby, baby, how you sing to me. I know that you missed me. Ah-ah-ah-ahhhh.....ah-ah-ah-ahhhhh. Babe I need youuuuuuuu. Steel slide on steel strings and a wooden guitar. I may have a chance yet. Of living, of breathing, of dying. Its like a dance partner that won't look you in the eye, and keeps pushing you away. Damn my lack of motivation, my lack of ambition. Why have I chosen this life for myself? I dance by myself, talk to myself, my creeping words and faith in lack of organized faith making me dance. I delude myself into thinking life wants me, death wants me. Neither wants to dance, but with each other, and I play the music, damn me to hell if I stop playing. Damn my eyes if I stop writing, my heart my soul without a sound. Damn you if you stop, you canary in a cage, you wistful dreamers and bold illusionists. Grist for the mill, we all die together when the art stops flowing, when we stop flowing. canaries in a cage, they die first. Weezing as the sensitivity leaves the air, breathing hard at first, Toxins, box ins, I will be hear (here? hear, hear-hear) to see the world die, to spin and stop spinning, that is my reward, that is my punishment, seeking enlightenment past my days, standing in the void, trying to give souls lemonade and souls a boost into heaven, like helping a friend climb into a window, palms together knitted lattice and a hoop, boot, bootstrap heave-ho, all you go, the Place was meant for us all before the fall and the non-existant devil walked the earth accusing and obfuscating because damned man never needed any help to be bad, I mean bad, real bad, like sinners that don't exist except to serve the church and its mysoginistic ways of societal control. Yeah, think of that. God only likes half of the population? Why can't they be preists, Peter? Peter was a good soul, though, woman problems aside, he never touched any small boys, at least, from what I hear, they nailed him up like the rest, perhaps the Devil did track them down, but then, as I say, Man never needed any help in being bad, anyway. He just needed someone to blame himself upon. Moralistically, we belong to our brothers and sisters, and should give a fuck all about the rest. Line our lives with silver eyes and glistening thighs and forget about the rest. you want to be good, you NEED to be good, and the gap will clothe your pasty white ass, because no one ever went broke promoting conformity, like the herd needs that, promotion of conformity, what a concept, those fucks in government got it stone wrong. Promote dissent and the geniuses will rise to the top, society will expand, glow and grow, and the ship will right its course to lives we all could have worth living, rather than grist for the mill.
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