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Thursday, April 23, 2009

Balloons

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You look better, dressed in balloons, then anything else

It’s not that I regret what was lost

But that I regret what was not

 

I’m standing here, waiting for you, to come and enlist me

We’ll join the Joy divisions

Work on our backs, and sleep in the day

 

These times are already forgotten, lost in the past

They don’t belong to my generation

This blood, is not on my hands

 

These shuddering lines, make up for what used to be

The glamour and lives, that we lost in those times

 

I’m not one to cry, over milk that’s already been spilt and dried

But we’ve got nothing to show for our loss

Out and out, out on the plains, on the rivers edge

 

Crumbling sand on our beaches

Bleached hair, by the sun

You’ve lost your mind, my little one

 

A memorial, made of stone, will last longer then any of us

 

Maybe

Maybe, we need a war, all of our own

A war to claim this space, as my place

A defining moment, for my generation

Out of the offices and into the fields, killing each other again, my dear.

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