Here in the day we belonged in the night
Searching for our pulled wings
Escape is only a figment of someone else’s imagination
Escape is “been there done that” with different textures and tones
Flying now we said, “fuck the wings” lets crater man
“Imitation Is Suicide” (Emerson)
In this dream after death its prevalent to think that one was never alive
We were programmed to fly
We were wound up and off we went
Along the way we were stripped of all expectations a toddler’s imagination
could hold
Eager to learn less
Some come as rats some come as whores some come and go right back (Modest
Mouse)
But they all spend their days searching for their wings
After this death is life?
I say there is no life
Only one big fog
So many wingless things all thinking different yet the exact same

Crater man, “Imitation is Suicide”

 
Copyright © amodestmouse, All Rights Reserved