Author Information
I'm Not Gonna Play
Folder:
The Rushing Stream of Desires
Nobody's gonna call my name
in the middle of the night
so I might as well fight
my way out of a paper bag.
Spotted crosses burning on the lawn.
Fires started by the RCMP
just to prove a point.
I'm playing at dead.
I'm playing at dead.
No stupid sense of duty is gonna call
me out to fight a war
that is playing on the
television.
I'm not gonna play.
I'm not gonna play.
No fucked up, drugged up
lost in space type of world
can claim to be real.
It's all a joke.
It's all a joke.
Some tonic is plied for the sense of pride
that is wasted on me.
I'm not biting.
The fish are dead and the cars are rushing by
in ever widening circles of concussion.
It's what I am.
It's what I am.
No stuck in time, rocking and rolling
metaphor gonna claim my grave.
It's not for sale.
It's not a joke.
It’s not a dime store novel.
Faster than a growing tree in the
middle of the night.
Let the pyres burn.
Let the pyres burn.
They define my space.
They determine my face which is marked
with their sign of the beast
which is corrected by paper and glue.
I'm undone.
I'm undone.
Let the soldiers march and the girls
spread their eyes in widening desire.
It's a joke.
And so am I.
