Ghost Puppy
Fall fashion is immure
Full fascism is astir
I have to flee
To freedom in Germany
The irony aint lost on me
Diseases invading my soul
Discontent bought and sold
A willing lackey was I
A corporate shill, a living lie
Fated to pretend
Until the bitter end
Kept alone on my own shelf
Self-condoned a poisoned health
In frigid Berlin I begin to thaw
Conscientiously withdrawn
To decry and detox
Decamped from the tinderbox
The perfect spark and I'd explode
Catastrophe I've never known
Another crime, another road
Maybe this time I can atone
Sail to a Portuguese winter
Labors of a sobering vineyard
En route to a Japanese dream
An autumn to be redeemed
Appealing spring brings a calm
In citrus-soaked southern Spain
Feeling fragments of aplomb
Invictus cloaked by stubborn pains
Like a ball and chain
Always tailing behind
Leaves me scatterbrained
Echoes of a piercing whine
The perfect spark and I'd explode
Catastrophe I've never known
Another crime, another road
Maybe this time I can atone
Following beneath my shadow
Biting and clawing under the skin
Swallowing the reaping they’ve sown
Fighting the calling to throw it all in
Ancient empires in shambles
Succumbed to classist avarice
Nascent outliers in shackles
Ransomed for fascist cowardice
A whimsically westernized summer
Of fairytale forgetfulness
Intrinsically I gesture like a mummer
Unfair retail frivolousness
Vices squared by devices
Marketing before young lobes develop
Even this just gives Meta more clicks
Pocketing their score so globally enveloped
Layers of fake humanity
As cosmetically applied
Like clown paint insanity
And caustically ascribed
To frown-faced inanity
A cause let sickly to slide
No matter how far I can abscond
How much I conscientiously reject
The patters of partisans despond
The madness subconsciously infects
Like a ball and chain
Forever tailing behind
Leaves me scatterbrained
Echoes of a piercing whine
The perfect spark and I'd explode
Catastrophe I've always known
Another crime, a final road
Maybe this time I can't atone
That perfect spark and we'll explode
Catastrophe we've set in stone
A binding crime, a long-lost road
Maybe we’re just not made to atone
Our own complicity in self-destruction
Is the chronicity of wealth’s seduction
Wallowing in sheets so soiled, unfurled
To the victor goes the spoiled world
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