Call Me, I’m Lost
Loathe the human walking in dusty trails by themself,
A rotary dial spinning round for the switchboard,
“Who are you calling today”
Dead silence on the other end of the line,
“I’m calling ‘cause I’m lost”
The caller responds,
“How can I help” rings from the switchboard,
“Point me home”
Says the voice from a landline phone,
They have a house,
A phone to call from,
Friends to answer,
But no direction,
A living, painful vivisection.
A torn page from a book who left them behind,
Cracked open like bunker rations,
Torn apart by war like factions,
Ripped from their whole like fractions,
Calling god on a landline for his benifaction,
Smothered in the holy water his whole life,
But no bath could cleanse the sins of his own action,
No rotary phone could call for help for such an infraction,
So please call me, before I lose myself in this abstraction.
My heart is heavy, and my soul falls to inaction,
My brains all I got left and sometimes it feels like the only way to reach Nirvana,
Is a pump-action.
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