Sure, I know that you are tired of hearing about it, but Most repeat the same theme over and over again, its As if they were trying to refine what seems so strange And off and important to them, its done by everybody Because each must work out what is before them Over and over again because That is their personal tiny miracle Like now as like before and before I have been listening to symphony after Symphony from this radio Makes me realize that certain people now long dead were able to Transgress graveyards And traps and cages and bones and limbs In tiny rented rooms I was struck by miracles The flesh covers the bone And they put a mind In there and Sometimes a soul And the women break Vases against the walls And the men they drink too Much And nobody finds the One But keep Looking Crawling in and out Of beds Flesh covers The bone and the Flesh searches For more than Flesh There is a loneliness in this world so great That you can see it in the slow movement of The hands of a clock People so tired Mutilated Either by love or no love People just are not good to each other We are afraid Our educational system tells us That we can all be Big winners It hasnt told us About the gutters Or the suicides Or the terror of one person Aching in one place Alone Untouched Unspoken to People are not good to each other People are not good to each other I suppose they never will be I dont ask them to be But sometimes I think about It There must be a way Surely there must be a way that we have not yet Thought of Theres no chance At all We are all trapped By a singular Fate Nobody ever finds The one Who put this brain inside of me? It cries It demands It says that there is a chance It has kept the rope from my throat Maybe it will loosen Yours The city dumps fill The junkyards fill The madhouses fill The hospitals fill The graveyards fill Nothing else Fills
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