There is nothing here,
There is nothing there,
No politics or police will ever salve us,
Save us, or even beat us down very far,
And so we're left with only this,
This fury of the fray
And all the usual lazy illnesses of our souls,
All those familiar insects crawling in our minds.
Russia may look at America
And maybe we still stare hard at them,
But we might as well all stare at a cat!
We're all too busy, too seriously
Trying to make an irreverent buck
While we circle our rusty station wagons
Against radiation from Iran
And wait for yet another midnight rut with a lady soldier
In a camouflaged truck in dusty Iraq. |
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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)