Matiné
The chances of winning the lottery are equal to those of being thunderstruckSo the next time there's a thunderstorm, don't be afraid, abide the norm
And climb up into the highest tree you can see with as many tickets you can afford and a fourleaf clover for extra luck
Turn off your TV, and rub your muddy eyes so you can see me
Yeah, it's me, tucked into your worn out frontal lobes back seat
Don't be alarmed, you know what they say about memory
Something was pushed out in order to leave place and space for me
Anyway, now for our feature presentation, bombastic drumrolls
Allow me to present the Man For Whom the Bell Tolls
And it might toll for you too, unless you bring the right billshaped tools
It might toll for anyone from uppiest uppety up to village fool
I'll instruct you to soak up the oaks roots, and replace them with a hundred marching boots
Nah, whatever let's just give in to our private favourite primate burden
And Fight all night with Clubs just like an entire race of Tyler Durdens
Because the mothership has landed, just like those marching boots demanded
It will leave you feeling stranded, talking about capitalism and imperialism, feminism and veganism
It will speak of rape, robbery and nighttime bloody murder
And all those other horrible things public service TV made sure you never heard of
And more than anything it will speak of the whiteman lords of deceit that have the history running on repeat
It will put the blame on their fat asses and on that identic twin of yours you a have locked up in a glass cage
On the white wall fo your bathroom
Mimicing your every movement
Poetry by lou bergs
Read 1062 times
Written on 2005-06-28 at 16:35
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