Index Cards in the Middle of the Night
Index Cards In The Middle Of The Night
I have no desire to fight or to flee
Only to burrow into my civilization’s debris
But the techno-worms won’t let me die
Resurrection is at hand, choppers and the big lie
Hear the Babylonian Whore tell lewd jokes
Pass the wine, snort a line, anyone’s got a fresh pack of smokes?
Illusion is the art of today’s connoisseur
Morality is just what can be gotten for a price that’s fair
Barabbas would feel at home with us modern men
Caligula would have a talk show on CNN
But are we men? Or are we shit?
Look in the mirror, is your lip bit?
I’ve lost my post-it notes with the blasted economy
I’m reduced to writing on index cards, the poetry of my parsimony
Life totaled me a wreck and a short sale
Yet no one dares to give anyone a hard-earned fail
The Evangelical Christians argue Bible and verse
With Atheists and Pagans till all turn blue in the face
Islamic nonsense and big-titt’ed models a-plenty
Everyone seems to care about the opinions of anyone who’s twenty
While the world eats all the fish in the sea
Burns all the oil and waits for healthcare that’s free
Where are the Biblical Prophets to rain down some sense?
Where are the Sci-Fi geeks with their God-like aliens?
I’ve run out of index cards and my hand is tired
I am so exhausted I am wired
I threw the batteries from my TV remote away
I’ve deleted my shortcut to Google and E-Bay