The citizens of poverty and misery are on display for all to see. They can’t be kept out of sight, even in the middle of the night, these citizens of poverty. The irony is that welfare has held them down, these citizens of poverty. Their season of discontent keeps hanging around these citizens of poverty. Loss never wholly goes away on the dark side of life. Everything is frozen, and everything is broken. Round midnight always stands its ground; welcome to the dark side of town. Justice doesn’t have a sell-by date. The vultures keep circling all day in the ghettos of poverty.
Dawn is seeping through the window pane. I’ve not had much sleep. I’m staring at the alarm clock that won’t go off. I’m the new kid in town. Will you show me around? Working for peace ain’t what it used to be. I’ve paid my dues, more often than not. Working as a wage slave gets more challenging by the day. The inspectors come around daily and in the middle of the night. Their goal is to write you up and move you out—only a few notice the sands of time obstruct the view. The carriages of the Amish are being bombarded into oblivion; nobody seems to care. The targeted camels have chiefly been taken out; nobody seems to care.
The old shade of Red-neck is hard to find these days. New shades of gray are everywhere these days. Downtown Brown is nowhere to be found these days. He has just stopped coming around these days; he must be dead and in the ground for everybody to see.
The next energy crisis is combining up fast. Sunshine and windmills ain’t where it’s at. The government is spending big on windmills and sunshine. We’ve been there before and done that. It doesn’t work, and everything is broken. Baby, you can’t drive my car no more.
I was running through the jungles of regret with liquid death raining down on me because the rich always wanted war without end. Warfare profits are immense. Explosions are in the sky, and sunspots are raining down. This is the end, my friend.
