We describe the sensation 
as a tearing in our chests 
and there is a quality 
in Feiburg's father's 
post-war wail that reaches 
through the world's worst speakers 
and beseeches 

anyone who happens by, 
on their way to somewhere else - 
clicking through the endless screens 
for the garbage on the shelves 
reflections of ourselves - 
to consider the cost 
of all this shit we seem to think 
will fill our perforated souls. 
We're more hole than human being, 
can't wash away that stink. 

13 billion years in the making: 
a live, unfiltered moment. 
An unscripted encroachment 
upon the province of routine evil - 
of all-too-human people.
So quick to turn on you. 

Thought I was fucking outta here 
with two middle fingers in the air. 
Then like a mile-wide meteor, 
he came crashing through my door. 

That's just how it goes. 
And everybody knows 
ain't too much can be done. 

All the avarice and greed 
and puny human hatreds 
that dare to come between two human hearts. 
I try not to live in fear 
and I'm truly grateful 
for every happy moment here. 
Upstairs I hear her voice 
she softly singing 
to him and I come undone. 
Something wicked this way comes. 

And that's just how it goes
and everybody knows 
ain't too much can be done.