There’s another one and there’s another one and there’s another…in a fog of
advertiser competition; who gets–who pays–who wins the market for double
income no kids upwardly mobile wallets attached to ever wanting more more more
as a cloud wraps around and engulfs where upper floors once lived

Strangely warm ice and razor blades; a voice like hail stones slamming the message
home like it was on fire, like it was last in line for all you can eat, like nothing
was better than nothing and it knew it well…so we listened; lemmings standing on tiptoes…
elbowing aside our own good fortune in order for a better look, a better seat

Doesn’t matter that noise is noise is noise is noise with no meaning just what we hear
again and again but the TV, the nightly news, the talking faces all jovial and laughing ha ha
describing burning bodies falling from great heights pretending to be watermelons on
sad concrete beds they finally rest as we go to commercial…but who knows

Not us! ignoring our own favorite genocide with bacteria and good intentions, god
and caveat emptor we sell our eyes to others for pennies while always expecting the
streets paved with gold to be our gold, our land our ideas of right and wrong, of
strength and truth written in books of paper and plastic and everlasting glory

The highest bidder sits on a thrown of the transactional afterlife, a crown of achievement
lay haphazard; a sign that we don’t know what we want until told so, until we are forced,
make that “lifestyle” decision..removed and separated from our insides, our guts
we live in that digital stream between product development and consumer database

The twin towers stood and then didn’t and in their place we run 24 hour infomercials
selling fear and loathing to a willing world gone astray for meaningless materialism for
bright pieces of metal for night and day for MY message over YOUR message for
a god that changes PO Box numbers based on which book sells better.

We blame externally as that makes sense but is wrong; we know it as we flip the plastic, we
spend what we don’t have, we define the fear we hold dear and important and is packaged
and sold back to us…the nightly news the blog the twitter feed the never-ending all purpose
everyday and every day pound pound pound into our naive consumer heads.

Haa haaa ha…I want to laugh and push the button, pull the switch, trip the trigger that
reverts us to some time that never was, people we never were, never saw had was and I
want to shake my head until the bad parts fall out but, but, but my hand in the ocean only
gets wet when I try to move the Atlantic farther away from me…

We asked for and received the cloud in an always spinning spiral toward an end
planned and designed by industrial fiat; we buy what we sell to get money to buy what we
sell to get money to…until one day we look up and the twin towers don’t hold the sky hostage
anymore, don’t define the majesty of a future bought and paid for with too far extended credit.

The cloud is our confusion; our souls lost on cable channel 3046…it is where our destiny has an
address, the place our Bible’s & Koran’s and the books of the dead all point to when we talk about
the end…when we talk at all…and we can pay now or pay later or pay never by forgetting
that we live on a round ball in the middle of nothing…in our own personal twin towers.