SOMETHING ELSE

What can be said for the weight that falls,

That come what may we are equipped?

We are all choice meat for a wild hacking maniac.

“Spare me, spare us all,” but nothing gets left out.

I would rather be doing something else.

Yet barking dogs have never stopped a caravan.

Spin, the sun comes out,

spin again, the sun is dead,

The circular saw without reason or sense

I would rather be doing something else.

Does it amuse the maniac that we fall

Into place like obedient lambs,

that we breed and we dance?

We are programmed for that.

I would rather be doing something else.

Why can’t we stand up and face the fact,

Turn our skins inside out and stop to pretend

That we have something to gain, something to spend,

That it’s all worthwhile in the end?

I would rather be doing something else.

The matter is closed, the matter is dead,

It makes no difference what anyone says.

We’ll sit here in the rain and try to obliterate our pain

While the background plays the same refrain:

I would rather be doing something else.

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