From “The World’s A Madhouse” by Bowers and Butchvarov
Listen live free: https://www.cpbutchvarov.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/Madhouse-08-success-again.mp3
Impede, implode, implant your data Interpose apocalyptic fear The dead are whispering wise advice Somehow you cannot hear The watchers know your search behavior All your favorite sites for girls and guns Computer eye, unblinking at you Compiling all your deeds undone So God led you down into the shadows Trapped in hidden mechanism gears Step on the gas, pedestrians scatter Trade your life and dreams for a career Secure your bunker, disguise your weapons Nervous laughter edged with helpless rage The drooling gibberish, senseless babble Push the bird back in the cage Feeling way too fine, that's the sign You're about to crash Your stardust wand, that Disney crap Match it with your sleek stiletto blade Spiced up, spaced out, packing heat Jittered, jagged, and all frayed That swirling flock of blackbirds Flat and dreadful as a falling pane of glass Heartbeat and breath, warmth and sleep For what, you cannot ask Feeling way too fine, that's the sign You're about to crash
Copyright 2020 by J.S. Bowers and C.P Butchvarov