the wind's gone wild, the violent ghost   stares through the window at the cocky young talk-show host   whose voice is booming   but strangely soothing   in a cube of precious, restless space   while the city's boiling   and not listening   to the paper bastard's painted face      so that's that   with an electric flash   of broken glass   blood, bones, and skin   they all just blend right in   but the cameras never cease to roll   when life has lost control   to the roaring land   upon which nothing stands      i'm the broken baby   who's gripped by sea   with only seconds until   the end of me   and i can see it coming   that metal hand   as it gathers up the final prize   when that gallant laughing   gets funnelled in   through your ears, your mouth, and your eyes      it's a downpour of dead birds   to the steaming ground   of this pitch black town   and you better find yourself some shelter   down, the sun's been pulled   and now she's creeping invisible   and i fucking swear that i just felt her      18 paragraphs all across your head   trying to convince me you're not dead   but a deep breath of air   tells what is and isn't there   space has never lied   will never lie   i watched it all so safely   from my tv screen   10 feet above the thrashing sea   65 billion fingers packing tight   the dirt over me   i'm not   i'm not the least bit lonely      when my house starts melting   i will be wrestling my ghost      with a foot on his face,   i will whip out the mace   and slam it down,   slam it down with amazing grace      while laughing on a distant, distant planet   is a being with a telescope for seeing us   four thousand years of breathing, each the same   oh powerless god, stop making fun   turn around turn around turn around turn around turn around   abort your son      i can't stop driving, just searching the city   trying to catch up with my yellow school bus   smelling the scents that will one day remind me   of my love and where it never ever got us      nothing has   nothing has   nothing has nothing has nothing has nothings has   changed      you dont need eyes to see that      when the wind starts tearing the trees   up from the grouund and then around with the breeze      i will be spinning fast this sphere, closing my eyes,   and pressing my finger here      down underneath the violent waves   i will anchor to the bottom   i will bury my face   i wil be untouched by the weather, untouched by decisions, free to sleep forever      i was sucking on rejected apples   dodging all the circles of light   weaving through the well-lit mansions   of the great white elite at night   when the cracks began splitting the ground   and in fell the trees to the firey seas of the underground, spiraling down   half-eaten dinners and repenting sinners all clutter the crumbling town      on a sound stage in the slums of LA   the jagged line cuts the floor   plastic wood and hollow appliances   shake to the rhythm of the roar      and the laughter sign is blinking on and off and on and off...   with hysterical flashing, the lights all come crashing   they slice up the godly, young prince   who blows a kiss, gives a bow, from across the abyss to kids in the audience      he's letting time march away from him   and he's giggling like a god the whole way down      hahaha hahaha hahaha hahaha hahaha      the hurricane left caskets   resting on the laughing ground      hahaha hahaha hahaha hahaha hahaha      downstairs   the television's speaking to the dark   it's a home video   of a house you know      of the oblivious earth   just 4 weeks before your birth      your mothers smile stings   like dying in your dreams   when nobody cares   that you're not there      you're staring straight into the eyes   of the overwelming afterlife      there's no reason to fear   what has already been here   you have to disappear      downstairs,   the television's more than half awake   and it's laughing loud   letting the cold dawn break   singing, "release the fuming monster   from its home in the poison lake"      make friends with the roar   and deny that you wear born into   bubbles of love   into latex gloves      and deny that your mind was designed to murder you      then maybe some good will come   from your head to the great hum,   but you must break your thumbs      do you want heaven, or do you want hell?   i've got both right here to sell   but man, nothing you've done is you're fault   if you've had to be here at all      i dont care   i dont mind   i am tucked in the corner with my crimes   a rebellious little rusted nail   with a heart singing fail fail fail      but golden teeth   paper face   iceberg blood      flashing on like a flood,   my fellow god wrote the world in the mud.      gold-speckled paper deep in dirt says:      "we've got truths,   we've got thoughts   we've got flesh to watch rot      surfaces and structures   and sounds to turn off      but the rest is nothing   and we know that now   off alone with its tame, simple screams      it's our job to cover them,   not to make sense of them,   and to dream of having better dreams"