Let's play the game that got you wasted.
Let's take a drip from the prick syringe.
Can you remember how it tasted when the drumstick smacked you?
What a forceful friend.
Now the sun's coming up on your palace.
You're breaking crystal with your mallets.
You shatter glasses and you shadowbox.
Your trifocals focus on the phallus.
There's no glory,
no sacred soul sea.
No starship,
no black keys.
No bands that remove me from competition
in the coliseum.
I'll smash your keyboards.
I'll take mine back home.
Then Jesus taps you on the shoulder:
"My father's ageless, but you're older,
and you're too feeble for my lightningbolt."
The universe starts dying.
It gets colder.
And now it's time for you to feel some pain.
Sacrifice a lung or two to fortune/fame.
Put down the auditorium with Christian name,
and call yourself a sacrificial soldier.
I can't believe that you'd bulldoze the mineshaft
You traded emotion for skills, and computerized.
Take back the seascape on jet skis and earthquakes.
Envision the nightmares you'll cause in the Birchmeres.
You'll spill spill spill spill,
garbage shaft floor-by-floor.