December 16, 2004


The stories circle back and they change the names
The freshly painted lies all sound the same
I'm drowning in news of other people's pain
Like a peeping Tom, and I burn with shame

Life here goes on and it seems to change
We're all treading new water day after day
One eye on the games our masters play
Little flies on the walls of their firing range

They claim reason and rhyme, season and time
If you stop to speak out you'll fall behind
Get treated like you've totally lost your mind
Just take a post on the corner with an 'End Times' sign

Forget ambition if you happen to care
About the widowed or dying from anywhere
If it means you can't do just what you want, anytime
We'll all stand by at the scene of the crime

Since the cavalry rode right on back home
The vandals are playing at the Senate of Rome
Two centuries work goes up in a flash
But I'm just rubbernecking at the site of this crash

The theives speak well and the wolves are polite
It bleeds through when we're talking, just you and I
I don't care where it leads, I'm just looking for a door
Some days I can't watch this show anymore

Posted by natasha at December 16, 2004 06:56 PM | Fiction | Technorati links |

I know...I know. Tonight, I just can't take it.

Posted by: Patrick at December 16, 2004 05:20 PM


Posted by: Scott at December 16, 2004 06:29 PM

Wonderful poem....touching. Thank you.

Posted by: Deborah White at December 16, 2004 10:26 PM

Wow, we have a poet in the house!



Posted by: TABS at December 17, 2004 10:13 PM


First thing to make my stolen poetry and song blog in a long while.

Posted by: Gary Denton at December 21, 2004 11:25 AM