End Of The World Show - Senser

What is it to be a man skin tone?

Silkworm?

Cortisone?

I don’t hear alarm bells,

those aren’t alarm bells

We recede inside ourselves, inside our shells, what you might call hells inside

as well, it shares your cell

You never spent more than a couple of breaths just with yourself (without your

props)

Hmm, how to tell you what you are… a clue is left in the soles of your feet!

«I love your outfit, is it real meat?»

But I’ve seen you walking around without

it

If they cry a little longer, if they die a little harder, anytime,

anyway same things just keep happening

Hit the ground a little harder, live the lie a little longer, anytime, in a way,

same things just keep happening

The end of the world show is a re-run

Grave challenge of mind, no balance inspired, words that violate rhyme,

poisoned nation switching station, digesting this time after time,

line to line.

Sine waves stymie the bored tick of the brain, dissolve away,

drain the multi circuit vein by vein.

Just another blood river running down

every street.

Souls spraying open holes in the crossfire

Cowgirls riding on a string of pearls;

Orpheus into the underworld

Into the valley of living dead with the night vision, ghosts bathed in the

infrared

Sight specific, monolithic bathed in the glow that melts the permafrost,

were you hurt?

Were you lost?

Were you trampled in the race to the trough?

If they cry a little longer, if they die a little harder, anytime,

anyway same things just keep happening

Hit the ground a little harder, live the lie a little longer, anytime, in a way,

same things just keep happening

The end of the world show is a re-run

Brute force, par for the course, territory brought us nothing but wars,

race hate took us to the Holocaust and now we’re out of time, out of breath,

pluck a little tune on the lyre to death

With a chorus that glows like embers or emeralds, diamonds, paraphernalia,

generals in four-star regalia

Every little inch we paid in blood, paid in full, now you want to change the

rules?

Skyline sunset, pink like Crylon, too many positive ions, you look pretty high

and nigh on perfect in your Nylons

Hit the ground a little harder, live the lie a little longer, anytime, in a way,

same things just keep happening

If you get what’s happening, dolls and lazy mannequins, I don’t hear alarm

bells, that’s the children singing

The end of the world show is a re-run