Behind shaky worship heaves a bitter moon

Motherwit and street smarts bloom

Things fall apart the center cannot hold

Women on rockets and the men all follow





There might not a file but they're keeping tabs on you

oil on water and a turd in the Louvre

Turncoats smile and then they grieve

They dig your grave shallow so you can breathe

Into Thin Air





The yellow sun will someday smolder red 

Cords and cables, steel and concrete lie useless and dead

No worms and blood, bones and hair

A pasteless shell powders into thin air

Into Thin Air