Anchor me down with the past...
I'm a floating helium-centric
goon of the heavens babbling
incoherent love songs to the sick--
oh well, it was a mighty cause
when I fought it, when I remembered
what it was, but now I'm ground
up in old groundhog day
senility starting 8 hours behind
the sun and escaping into the night
only to sleep never to live
never to live--I'm a layabout--
society bites me, keeps me moving,
I've fallen so far from my feet--
they're dragging toward the gorge,
an endless plastic coffin filled
to the brim with only the faces
I've known, the ones with
concentric circles spinning round their
golden heads--that'd be us Joe--but
they stick the swords to our backs and the
planks vibrate to the frequency
of the queen's machine--
there's no footing, there's no branch
only falling--
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