Author: [[Abe Brownell]]
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Somewhere tomorrow there's an iron bull with porcelain horns
It lives in this china shop
Duty free at the airport
To pay I put my problems on the scale
Weigh out whether they're a
Critical mass for disaster weather
Yeah I can pass for better
But problematic as the paradise
We very well might end in
Bankruptcy we keep breaking stock in this
Combination petting zoo china shop
There's this sickness
Unease as we race through our
Collective quease and then collide
Broken noses and an ugly cry
Cleanup on aisle *why*
Silver linings slip away when it's
Overcast entirely throughout the whole day
This way we wait till night falls over us as we pass the time with our impatience
Get starry eyed when there's still sun in the sky
We trip over ourselves on the way to the airport to watch the stars die and come alive
Almost iron but manufactured faster than a dream can fade
Away away and so we promenade in vain
Flight check failure but fuck it if I've got wings
Away away
As if escape is a place
You could actually stay
You could call this
A eulogy by prophecy
You'd be wrong
Destruction ends not
The song is a cycle
We are bulls in a china shop
Porcelain horns notwithstanding
Pointed preconditions for
Pulling the threads into
Something new
From the fragments of my understanding
Fill the cracks once you've
Crashed the landing