A thousand differently shaped saucepans
08/09 2020
A thousand differently shaped saucepans
Lined up in chronological order
Someday, maybe, you'll fondly remember
Worthless moments like this
As you pack your lifetime in your trunk
That time once a week in church
He was actually telling the truth
The coldness of strangers
Comes back as the flames on the ground
The volcanic fumes of January
Was only the beginning of breathing problems
Brewing up from above
Early last night the child we wished we had
Gaunt cheeks, lying on his back
The blue-eyed son of blood-red rivers
Gasped as he took air for the last time
He might've muttered under his breath
But the only witness was a falling star
And the crackle of his half-lit cigarette
We couldn't help but cry as we passed
On our way to the imitation of normality
Along a thousand saucepans
Lined up in chronological order
Miles away from the real shore
Thorns lining the water below
Something tells me,
It won't be that long before we fall down
Even though the ships wave red, white and blue
And the sky screams clear
The river of rubber dyed in blood
The ghosts of a thousand mistakes
In bodies lined up in chronological order
Inspires no ones' hope
Except for the most desperate
And hopefully that is all it really takes