Talk Shop

something about the house felt like a song
creeps up like a peeling onion
i'm afraid of the way history is told
will the earth have air and water when I'm old?

when the bell tolls
confession is done
no one's going to carry me
so I'm learning to walk
one foot in front of the other
is that how we talk shop?
why do we even bother
waking up?

we say
give me space
push each other away
regurgitate scripted lines
waiting for our day to come
I just want to love everyone
but there's never enough time
that is my sentence
that is my punishment
that is my crime

words without action
work without passion
welcome to the new millennium
beat the dead horse
into a well rehearsed delirium
later rinse repeat
hold you're breath until you're beet red
drink until you're braindead
cry yourself to sleep

just
please don't
blame me