The Frying Pan of our Demise
Published in Everyone's a fucking poet! 1995
Now you say there is a ladder and we are climbing it I want to be flat So you say life is ground and we're covering it and I want to stand still you say this is the frying pan of our demise beyond which point we live times two and suffer threefold holding the delicate balance between our insane hands like a ninth cup of coffee at ten a.m.--something you need-- something you can count on a way of killing time to measure it by there's no accounting for the cost of boredom the price you pay in drunken sorrow lip service to the pursuit of happiness progress? what progress? this is life, kids, no up, no down, just forward, in all directions Of course the apocalypse is coming -- keep on your toes -- the big heat fire & brimstone do you know what brimstone is? i didn't either i thought it stood for visions of your past Difference is difference whether between roses or dogs when a body meets a wall it doesn't want to say hello and they don't have a good relationship still more exciting than petrified wood
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