Great Retreat

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Bubble Made Imagination

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Can I get more
Visuals, I say
Stained coffee mugs
Softly cupped by
Dry cracked hands on a winter day
As she sits alone
On the bed
I think about it
I guess that's why
It's ok
Can I talk about
Things
Not about me
It's hard to do
When you stay inside
Am I making noise just to be seen?
Or cuz there ain't no heart on my sleeve?
It might be
Easier
To go
Up
To
The street
What if the television suddenly stopped?
And the lights went out from Georgia to Maine?
And wind-strewn trash left the pits for the plains?
And the fires finally won the western states?
Would the civil war be civil?
Could our children eat?
Would music play at the campsites
During the great retreat?
Can you go to town
And get the scoop?
Ram or bus or foot
It doesn't matter
Focus on the people
Their thoughts and moods
Try to sit back and let them groove
Try to
Listen
For once
You
Selfish
Fool
What if the television suddenly stopped?
And the lights went out from Georgia to Maine?
And wind-strewn trash left the pits for the plains?
And the fires finally won the western states?
Can your outside thoughts
Not go to the end?
It's a weird form of privilege
Oh yeah
Not concerned with the present or friends
Wrapped up in existentialism
It's self-absorption
Posing as
Intelligence
What if the television suddenly stopped?
And the lights went out from Georgia to Maine?
And wind-strewn trash left the pits for the plains?
And the fires finally
What if the television suddenly stopped?
And the lights went out from Georgia to Maine?
And wind-strewn trash left the pits for the plains?
And the fires finally won the western states?
Would the civil war be civil?
Could our children eat?
Would music play at the campsites
During the great retreat?

 The easy, fast & fun way to learn how to sing: 30DaySinger.com