I Can See You Hanging (But do I see an Elephant?)

It’s easy and it’s all written down
Of where children play and clowns clown around
And bluebirds sing and buxom thighs await the next hand to stroke them

We all need miracles,
And we run the machines by the hour
And we get paid
And babies stumble out into the light
And grow up.

It’s all easy and it’s all written down
Like deep fear progenies trace our tracks
Like deep fear it all begins and ends with clocks
As cloakrooms fill and mortuaries fill
And we learn our grammar, maths, history and other stuff
and we fill out the forms and put our signs and seals
And we count our money and we kiss and we fuck
And on Saturdays we drink and on Sundays we fight our respective hangovers
And at times we bow our heads down
And we pray
And we bump into lost friends and lost lovers at bus-stops and cafes,
And we pretend sincerity.
And we count the days
And we get bored
And we get bored again. And tired too.

It’s all easy and it’s all written down
And it’s all been charted and chalked out beforehand
by some lame plagiarist motherfucker.
Mind me, I don’t blasphemise
It’s not god or destiny that I’m referring to
It’s just the way things stand.
And things stand pretty strong, things stand on solid ground –
Foolproof and well insured.
Just pay your premiums and grab that bread and those pieces of ass and that’ll do.



And as we wait for the next glass of whiskey
We move from one honour to the next.
And we move on.
And glasses keep on getting empty.
And that’s pretty much it.