Smog- Song 

I’m a bit like a soldier¬†
In the way I wear no uniform 
And choose not to fight 
And fight all night 
For some other cause 

I’m a bit like the grave digger¬†
Who wields no shovel 
And digs no hole 
But leaves the bodies to rot 
In the places that they stand 
For some other cause 

I’m a bit like the pack mule¬†
Carrying no load 
Into the canyons of your jive 
For some other cause 

I’m a bit like the freelance fence painter¬†
Then eyes your backside as you leave 
For some other cause 

I’m a bit like the peephole¬†
That falls in love with all the eyes 
That look through 
Watching major things unfold 
From minor flaws 
For some other cause 

(Have Mercy) 

there’s a ghost in the womb¬†
there’s a womb in the brain¬†
a brain in the soil 
dissolving in the rain 
rain upon the ocean face 
a face on the palm of a human hand 
a hand that swallows empty space 
to nourish the time that we withstand 
there’s time enough to save and keep¬†
to save the signs that rise in steep 
to mimic the pigs and mimic the sheep 
to marvel at the high and steep 
there’s a distance to the end¬†
there’s an end to distance’s reach¬†
reach to push to come to know 
how to sow and what to reap 
there are fruits that we have borne 
gone rotting and unrecognized 
recollect a memory 
of sentient orbs in a sentient sky 
there’s a sky the faithful find¬†
space that speaks to listening time 
join and sunder - sever and bind 
the junction of two parallel lines 
there is a trace that is sought to seek 
10,000 years pass in a week 
lately it has become clear - 
the weak are strong and the strong are weak 
not to say that all is reversed 
and not to say that all is cursed 
not to disfgure and not to pervert: 
PRAISE, PRAISE, PRAISE