TRAINS, R.R. TRACKS & YO MAMA
It’s all about diesels, alternators and carburetors, keepin’ 2, 4, 6 & 18 wheels in collinearity
Or it may not be all about the alternators and carburetors that lay it out, lay it down misery
Up north and down south, over in the east and out yonder in the west, it’s all a cowboy yelp
We’re not only invited to the WAR but we gotta go because there ain’t nobody else to help.
Therefore, I am and you are all there is between this life and the death ahead, how macabre
Like Vincent Price got in the room and now is going to smile the mustache grin to you, brah
Then we get to find out what the thrill of getting ready to be killed & eaten by an epileptic fit
We’re just supposed to lay down and take it? No, we fight & kill to survive another day in It.
On the One hand since you only have two hands, it’s all you knew before your conception’s I
Ego and the Id to fight for the grid to survive the grim rules of the strong survival of muscles
Only they survive until death takes them as an old, decrepit piece of meat that nobody will eat
It’s not your fault, the muscles taste like a crepe Suzette without the Suzy, know what I mean?
Anyway you look at it, the song reiterates the meaning with a hodge-podge of babbling dukes
Doing their best to be the jack of all trades and succeeding at being the #1 master of the None
From the revolution to the climax of the reality, a Big Bang rings, the sun sings, I move Nukes
Inside of the Kings and Queens two-dimensional realm, I’m the First & Only Mover, see son?
Unfolded greeting from the cyberspaced checkmates, the only place in Space left in this finale
Just to the rear of the curtain coming down to cut off the audience from the performers acts
To recollect who it was and why they did what they did and how they did it, taking a bow too
Choo choo trains need the tracks laid before they can roll, my dynamo is TNT’s soul of a fool.
Blown cover and cannot retain anonymity for the sake of being true to the solitary hermitage
Where I remain among the pearls, far from the corralled and penned swine that slop as a hog
Perfection and it’s living and breathing gas on a ashen, dirt ball, rivers to seas, Word of a sage
It’s not Pa, where you come from, where sunlight begins, gravity collapsed yo’ mama’s rage.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. July 26th, 2020 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST
{ Jammed out of the matrix while listenin’ to Eric Clapton concert on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/VcZILUFycrA February 17th, 2020 A.D. HammersmithLondon }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
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