© Electric Babylon Music Author: M.M.
You open your mind and your mouth leaks out, you spill what it never
was and not about, you cast pity’s fuse to the restless wind, you treat
your ego like a hero and your enemy like a friend, afraid of the dark
but much to afraid to admit it, a dream leaks in but it stops before you
can quit it, watch innocence put good up to evil, search for the ruins of
a man in the upheaval.
Busy making mountains, drying up the seas, trying to cure the
symptoms, with more of the disease.
The telephone is ringing the machine will fake a voice, chaos meets
confusion in the freedom of a choice, ingredients of hunger the diet of
the dying, ego baits the trap with a good excise for trying, bits of
pieces falling into the circus ring, a clown sweeps them up and says
this don’t mean a thing, the audience is waiting the performer’s
waiting too, now silence feeds the show each side waiting for its cue.
Busy making monsters, and they mate with pretty girls, and then
morning sickness brides, spit up brand new worlds.
And she turned away all teased up with the truth, and I said don’t close
your eyes I see the soul and secret off life in there, and it is...........
Eternity is calling the days are peasants time, death is calling highest
court to make living life a crime, the watermark of dreaming is higher
than the tide, don’t fancy love to fling a thought it’s much safer left
inside, all these crushed bones falling falling thru thin air, they fall thru
minds and ghosts and glass and all that’s not really there, and
impotent prayers are raised to god and climbing sky, and the builders
build new tombs and help the dying die.
Busy making mountains, drying up the seas, trying to cure the
symptoms, with more of the disease.
july 92