While people get dismissed
Pissed off, with bad problems
Solved by a payoff played up
With bad bargains
We cremate in carbon
copies of unclear scandals

My friends all hang with
Vandals and old broken crows
They say my disposition is way too cold.
I am a northbeast.
Weve been sitting in quiet rows too long,
Born bold from too much snow
learning from the sideshow.
The controllers have made clear aim is playing us too.
While their man on the plough
fakes a smile
like a no show.
Inside my head is a pickit fence with VIP's ontop and sharks swimming in the lobby.
Always so pressed to act and approve
A matter of unimpressive fact.
Thats the kind of attitude I work to reject.
There is a man on Market
With brass flutes for calling
golden rats.
We walking bumbling buzzing locusts
Maintaining black market options over making motions for reusing
producing a generation outta focus
They chose this.
The city folk bump around their town frowning while
We're all inside drowning
Come hide inside and we can
drink with the shades drawn.

Humans have no tails to crop.
Face wise-ass grins,
So instead we get wisdom teeth plucked out.
My friends look like mis-raised pit puppies.
Cheeks scarred marks for the wounded.
Every Where
We Go
is Closed.
but train stations for the taking
Standing ice cold not shaken.
A body in subway car flash
Emptied of all somebody tryna go home
Where we all wanna be.
This convenient theory of mine, when time is aligned right
A shift/
A boost or a subjective truth.
Misbegotten tones ringing as the platform lags behind in the eyes of the awakened.