cul-de-sac

every single day, circling a cul-de-sac

alligator eyes staring out of storm drains

walking in your wake, circling the refrain

"i know it's not gonna last"

so ease your bellyache and occupy your fever dreams

your disembodied voice still blaring from a tv screen

"the modern earth was born in a two-car garage"

"i know it's not gonna last"

let it fall from your grasp

half asleep, foraging

silver screens for a dream

that we aimlessly reenact

only now every town is the same town

every doomsday cult pleading we've gone off track

we're circling a cul-de-sac

the new age cut their hair

eternity in crypto mines

the new age cut their hair

sincerity is anodyne

the desert of the real was overcast by its map

"i know it's not gonna last"

i want to be your tv girl

plastic-wrapped on bladderwrack

to find a stable plot

across the rotting corpse of god

ghosts of the past, living just to react

"i know we're not gonna last"

little foal in the grass

in your youth, in a fugue

sigil signs in hexadecimal hues

your view will never stand beside of the fact

all your love, went away

all the mayflies died in a day

your autumn will pass

your moonlight will wane and wax

circling a cul-de-sac

circling a cul-de-sac

circling the refrain

"i know it's not gonna–"