I
all the yawn-dark daylight hours rotted.
The traffic prattles; the planes haver.
At night the stars’ mad truths are plotted.
The blue sky is but a screensaver.
The Marx of weakness, the Marx of woe?
We were the ones
who made him so.
Friedman, beggar man, ‘Kill The Poor’;
weekly rations don’t cost much more
than a good crack whore.
Blow! Blow a hole in the blue-eyed sky.
Blow! You’re not the little world I once knew.
Blow! Blow a hole in the blue-eyed sky.
Rockthemousedontrockthemousebaby.
Absinthe-minded, absinthe-eyed,
earth is famous
as where
god went to die.
Armed with heaven, armed with death,
they took a breath
and they blew
it through
the screaming sky.
Blow! Blow a hole in the blue-faced sky.
Blow! You’re not the little world I once knew.
Blow! Blow a hole in the blue-faced sky.
Blow! You’re not the little world I once knew.
Blow! Blow a hole in the dead blue sky.
Blow! You’re not the little world I once knew.
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