Plan Your Escape

crows pitch on the lawn screeching a song the inmates wake up and they’re pulled to the bars to pine their regrets and their rusting corvettes and the tragedy they once had a part in they said “you ruined your life! you pissed on a prize!” it’s still pulling your knuckles to your palm (fucking conscience, you’re siding with the wrong side!) you know the devil’s not deep – no, he’s brushing your cheek and hearing him breathe you remember a song.

just another angel through the clouds and into the ground just another pilot through the clouds and into the ground just another child through the chrome sets out on his own

birds shit on your car and you’re scraping it off do they know who you are? don’t they know who you are?! they sing “you ruined a life! you pissed on a prize!” still pulling your knuckles to your tie you carry on, hunched over your job (start the engines i’m dying in the long line!) but you want to get off and run away from it all

and run away from it all…

you plan your escape, at the end of the day, you plan your escape you take what you saved, and you get on a plane, you take what you saved and you start fading away, as you’re turning the page, you start fading away (just another angel through the clouds and into the ground just another pilot flying down and into the ground just another devil out of the dirt and back into the earth) (fucking conscience, you’re siding with the wrong side! start the engines i’m dying in the long line!)

wait – wait – wait – before you go i want you to know all that you were and the sound that you made when you moved before you leave i need you to see all that you mean – you would hardly believe it

sitting in the kitchen wondering how it is i’ll tell you this when the phone rings, so i start right in then: we are shells or instruments, inside there’s sound that speaks to us if you listen, and i been listening.

sorry to reduce you to this useless imagistic bullshit but maybe that’s all i’ve got maybe that’s all i’ve got sorry to confuse you with some foolish thing that misses truth but maybe that’s all we are around a brightly dying star

these spiralled shells, so sexual, could out-reveal the texts we dwell upon, or maybe not, but certainly a sound that’s free can open me and easily just rip my heart out and start me shouting:

this is how i feel. listen.

i’m sorry to reduce you to this useless imagistic bullshit but maybe that’s all i’ve got maybe that’s all i’ve got and sorry to abuse you with this ruthlessly sadistic music but maybe that’s all i want i’m just a really pretentious guy

but wait! wait! wait! wait! wait! wait! before you go, i want you to know all that you were, and the sound that you made when you moved before you leave, i need you to see all that you mean – you would hardly believe it

you would hardly believe it… if i could just speak it…

but this is how i feel… listen.

you cringe, you complain you sing, sing, that old refrain the roof is falling in the roof is falling in i’m not kidding you can probably feel the wind

no, no, not again (my darling sleep) put your head on my legs (breathing deep) it’s not time for your untimely end, no not yet (no not yet) no no no no no no no not yet

you got this feeling you’ll live to get what you give you’ll be an old man soon…

you wait, you waver you think, think, always must consider cause every path’s a problem every turn is trouble and you’ll probably never solve them so why not love them?

no no this is not allowed (my darling sleep) wrap that busy head in sound (breathe it in) rocking gently inside this (the din be peace) no, no, no, no, no, no, yes! yes! yes!

you got this feeling you’ll live to get what you give you’ll be an old man soon…

i know its messy but you’ll make it right you don’t want pity you want pride a king, a lion, a god among men and children who cry when the thunder begins their heads fall to their chests while you watch from a great height with your head high and your eyes on fire…

the rain starts off and it wakes you up you can’t sleep with that racket on the roof you get up slow but you can’t get going it seems this morning the lowness has won did you stop to see? mediocrity and your self pity, they were stealing a kiss, look at their lips, still shiny did you notice that happiness happens less the more often you stop to find where it’s been hiding you say, “it’s not my fault that i get so low there’s a weight on my soul that keeps pulling me down it’s pulling me down, i swear it”

so come on by my house and unleash me your monsters with you at the healm we’ll go crashing around together don’t mistake some initial hate for something more that cautionary cause baby this is love, i’ll come down to hell to keep you company

of all the days we’ve got we should be screaming out… of all the days we’ve got we should be singing…

what’s to be done? one hundred and one in a tent for twelve with fingers and elbows in innocent ribs, we’re minding our business we’re just minding our business instead of minding our minds in times when the storms will ravage your clothes, the sound and the color could render you blind and the throes of a nightmare can sing you to sleep then some foreign machine wakes you up at a mean hour but heaven is there, under your hair, it hides in the noon noise way up in the air like a bird on the breeze waiting for you and maybe me too

what’s there to do? one hundred and two are out on the doorstep and they’re pushing the bolts back they’re wanting in, they’re humming our hymn everybody’s singing like beautiful birds… in the trees, listen to it, it’s easy, you can do it too sing: i know what i want and i know what i need cause it’s the simplest thing

of all the nights we’ve got we should be stepping out… of all the nights we’ve touch we should be swinging around from house to house…

if i could cheer you up that would mean so much, clowns in love, just laughing it off, laughing it off, laughing it off you say, “it’s not my fault that i get so low but to drown you too, that’s a sick way to love, it’s a sick way to love, it’s a fucking sick way to love”

life is long pulling right from wrong legs like a rock yet you’re blown by the wind when you walk night time falls so you walk on home burning moon singing: breathe it out, breathe it out breathe it out’s what you shout as you run from the building on home through the crowds

death is quick slap of pigeon’s wings out of an alleyway into the light on up into the light like lightning

when you got to the gates, what did they say? what did they say? they said: “what you trying to prove – you’re gonna give us away! making those sounds down on the ground, that’s no place – we tried to buy the time for you to give it up, maybe stumble and fall, under the weight.”

“scottie, there comes a day, where we begin again, we begin again, we begin again, and you’ll recognize it then, you’ll recognize it then, you can feel it in your face, you can feel it in your step, you can feel it in your veins, you’ll recognize the end and then begin again.

and then floating on your back, what did you see? what did you see? did you dive too deep, like you always did? and when you made your move, did the wolf move too? did she breathe you in? we tried to figure out if when your lungs filled up, with that memphis blue muck, did you still sing on? did you still sing:

scottie, there comes a day, where we begin again, we begin again, we begin again, and you’ll recognize it then, will i recognize you then? will i feel it in the face? see it in the step? could i hear it in the veins? could i communicate it then? could i communicate the grace? could i bring it in? could i bring it out? only in my dreams, i’m just a selfish little kid, too ready to receive, more ready to give in than to begin again.

this is nowhere good enough this is nowhere close enough this is nowhere pure enough this is nowhere good enough

when i’m dying promise compliance and carry my body up over the fence and lie me on the moss we’ll hide my spirit from the gods and when they come looking we’ll be lying in the park

i don’t want wires i know they’re trying to bring me back but no more plastic i’ve had my piles of all that i’ve been swathed in inventions ever since i ventured to the light and i’m leaving empty with just my sacrifice

(cause you sacrifice all of your life and when you die is that alright? and when you’re bathed in light and when your body bursts wide open do you start to cry? not cause you die, but cause you die still hoping?)