Quietly

A Man Sits Headfirst In The Sad Concept He Calls Life

Sitting In The Doorway With The Blue Layouts Of The Century

As They Are Layed Upon The Rotating Globe Central Station

The Workers In The Backroom Drop Thier Bombs Like Airplanes

Grabbing The Metal Bats In Perfect Succession To The Doorbell

Echoing Down The Hall Of Old Diary's Dreams

Now Buried In The Field's Courage Space

To The End Of Times Finger They Fall Willingly

Maybe You Should Tie Your Brain Stem To Your Toes

Then City's Will Collapse In Movie Stars Purses

Where The Money Lays Quietly Awaiting Its Debate