THE SHORTCOMINGS OF LIVING IN A SUBURBAN HELL

Some things can’t be attained

You feel like driving a nail into your column bone

From the fence into nowhere

Nothing shines nor ever shone

 

Some things ride the meagre express

Coming home to a fatal nest

Speaking in hyperboles and platitudes

For this ailment there is no cure

 

Some things take pills to feel something

Or nothing inside

The search for equilibrium can be such a stride

 

Some things leaf through the pages of the “good book”

Like down here up there is just a crook

Just wild fantasies run amok

At least on bended knees you feel like being part of the flock

 

Some things rent an assassin to get the job done

Pills and paralysis for each and every one