The Dust Brothers - This Is My Life

III.

The night is near, midnight rising on my forehead. Over
yonder is your answer. I’ll not yield. I’ll not give in. This is
my life.

Static sweeps through the air, a wall of white inside
and outside. Meaning is lost within. You remain
silent and I slip into the stream, carried away by
the current to the opposite country.

II.

Woken by words. The day breaks on the shore
of my black and white dreams. These are times
of virtual confidences. Cute little smiley faces and pidgin
expressions bridge the gap of postmodernity. Curious
is the life of an outsider looking in, counting connections.

I.

The neon faces march through
the rain, a procession of familiar faces
marked by history. There is a D and here
is an S. Here is a T and there is a V. The light
bounces off the rain soaked pale skin. Questions
pop and burst. We are all enemies of intimacy, content
to vomit across the distance. A fake smile here and a meaningless
scrap there. Caught in the fear of green. Idealism has chosen
euthanasia as an easy way out. Beg for my life, must I?
They fight for dents in metal. Here I live with darkness as a roommate.
Lies abound. Tears survive. Hate is here.

The day after, a judgment in the hands
of one who does not care.

Who will call for the flashing red light?
Who will light the yellow flame?