I Saw the Messed Binds of My Generation

You are real. You are real. Breathe deep. Let the screens go blank and the streets explode in sirens. Bow and vow praise to hunger pangs And do run run run do-do run run Don't ask through what world. Skip the hugs. And do run run run do-do run run. You are real. You remain real thanks to both itch and state. And attempts to comprehend environmental devastation. See this today was not a day until it is and ta-da! This today of all days you've been made real. But in what world, how to know? Just call home. Stitch and feed and you're home. Been kept so real pressed against ambitious to-do lists. No time to rationalize, just scratch some shit out. What will it take to make you take care of yourself? Don't you hear the sidewalk's cheers from the fireman's song sung from his truck's P.A.? That's all I hear that siren song the fireman sings from his truck's P.A.