But in this Life
Trust became scarce like the air that we rely on
For you and now you warn me to retract it.
And dust collects in every empty corner of this world
Whilst your obsession strings your arms around
To clean it.
And I see you got our postcard and it's clinging desparately
To your fridge door like an island in a magnetic sea
You tell me that the body is a funny, crazy thing:
It controls you every step of the way
Whilst it's plotting quite against you;
Your family and neighbours have their gazes
Trained upon you every day.
And in your last life you were a tourist
But in this life you are the show
In your last life you were a tourist
But in this life you are the show
You say your life began at forty, along with the death-threats
From the Americans. And you never can tell
When a State-enrolled nurse might go mad and unplug your Ventillin?.
And you see the ceiling opening and, crawling, the world
Fills with malaise and the police have no idea;
The neighbours move their fences in about three inches every year.
They have plans to kill you in their insidious crush
You must watch who you talk to, 'cause tongues will wag
And tongues will lap you up.
And in your last life you were a keeper
But in this life you are the zoo
In your last life you were a keeper
But in this life you are the zoo
With a grip on your electronic umbilicus you tread softly
On the roses in the carpet. And hunched over, daily,
A table full of bills, you ensure me you're to busy, you've
Not got a moment.
And you've a map inside your head and a resume of everyone
Who happens to hazard by, you implore me who the man with
The mobile phone is on the corner.
He's plotting quite against you, he wants to buy your home
He wants inside your mattress for the treasure that
You curl around and sleep on.
And in your last life you were hungry
But in this life you are the food
In your last life you were hungry
But in this life you are the food
© Brendan Bonsack
March 2010