Gone Now But Not Forgotten
spider machines and suffering haunt my sleep. trying to breathe and not think and not to weep. they always come in my dreams of her, sabotage the aquifer, steal all the children for reeducation and throw us into spider machine work camps. simulacra are put in place of you and me. they say and do things that we would never say and do. they force us to raise kittens in cages in awful shapes. we don't get to see the light of day and we look like apes. this is our fate : spider machine work camps, baby.
The Desert and the Sea.
i can't recognize the forgery. maybe i did not put forth the effort. she is the complex forest and the sea. i am the wind and the desert. i could not begin to try to feel, so you can put away your feather. and you're not going to get me to sneeze, so put away your pepper. i am completely and utterly free. i am the wind and the desert. please complete these questionnaires for me. i promise no questions about secrets. there is nothing i can't easily flee, and that includes you and your secrets.
There Is No Band.
on the highway, a man swings alone, his head at an angle from the telephone pole. no ay banda (there is no band). whatcha gonna do when your flight has flown, you're old and grown, your cellular phone, you can't call home, you're totally blown, you can't get stoned, the things you own are all you've got when you're alone? there is no band, and yet we hear a band. there is no man, we only fear the man. there is no plan, though we wake in the morning. this is all a tape recording. there are no drums, and yet we hear drums. this is all an illusion. no ay banda (there is no band). no ay orchestra (there is no orchestra). there is no audience. no one is listening.
Self-Surgery.
something has infected my ear - a spirit in the form of pus whose musings i can hear. it tells me all the things it sees that aren't happening now. i just want to cut it out. it is inside my body. i don't want it there. my body is doing this to itself.
Prodigal Son.
soon ripe, soon rotten, gone now but not forgotten. i will be your prodigal son, wrapped in plastic. i will reawaken your dreams for all to see. it's going to be fantastic. leave your ambitions to me, i'll see that they get done. you were looking for someone like me and i'm the one. i will be your prodigal son, wrapped in plastic. i will reawaken your dreams for all to see. it's going to be fantastic. but you will have to watch me, and see i never wander, because you know the son must overtake the father.
Control.
control, control, are you receiving me? ignorant mutineers have seized command of the ship, and it has become clear that they don't know how to fly it. now don't you understand, we've become a flying bomb? and with these ignorant assholes in command we won't be flying long. now we're a shooting star, hurtling towards the cities of earth. there will be devastation if the few of us left who know better don't take back control. control, control, are you deceiving me? you're going through this life, struggling for the reins, and that remains your plight all the way to the end. if only you could see yourself, outlawing all your fears, consulting priests and oracles and economists and lobbyists and seers. and when the men who're controlling you slip and lose their grip on the wheel, please do these three things for me : tighten your seatbelt, say your prayers, make your peace. because how can life be better when it's under control? control is just another word for everything to lose.
Curtains.
i know a woman, ate the whole world, and she used to be such a sweet girl. she touched me with her secret. she burned me with her cigarette. i have belonged to her for so long, people will say i had the chance to be strong. but my soul is lit by the secrets i've learned and my path is written in the cigarette burn. o, there is a time, there were incidents, and so we hear them. but the mouth of god kisseth carrion, and when he appeared at the bus station that night our hearts froze. the living creature from itself hides. if you feed me, i'll eat. and we will, we'll leave tonight. look at you, moving through the world of light, your hair speckled with vomit. can't you see them, sparing you, limping, calling up to heaven, "fade lights, exeunt, cue comet."?
Fish.
what i want is dangerous. fish is sick of life. even my voice has left me.
The Allegory of the Cave.
on the accident report, i see my own name. i clearly have no one but myself to blame. in this hostile place, i'm given no chance to speak. i am told, "baby, you've peaked," and i've done nothing. everyone. i can bring everyone back. everyone. i can open everyone's eyes. on this memorial, there is a future date. it looms over me, shrieking out the music of my fate. i sing along with it, nothing else to do. i am creating it, and she's singing along too. you say you don't know what to make of it. i say, "shadow puppets." the moon, she is quarter full, but i can't tell if she is waxing or waning. i don't recognize most of the name she's naming. so i just sing along. there's no point in being strong for this. i was an accident, and so will be my end. everyone. i can bring everyone back. everyone. i can tell everyone lies. you say you don't know what to make of it. i say, "shadow puppets."
Morning Song.
o, i will make the sun rise again. i will sing the sun awake. i will see the sun rise again. i will sing the song to sing the sun awake. i will sing its morning lullaby.
All lyrics by George Dalphin. (c) 2003 Man-Like Machines