spider stream floats in the wind with a tree-trunk flag-pole banner
as harri tries to listen for the important notions in the debate - he fails this task
His mother is warning him of downtown riffraff
of the stoner with the peace-sign handshake ritual
and the mumbling old turkey-faced man on the bench beside him
He is the observer in a world full of beauty
trying, as most do, to become ever-twined with the things
that bring him joy.

Where is alex when the shirtless drummer with the nipple peircing
and the cigarette dangling dangerously from his mouth
with his brother hopping to his own coos and roars
tinted with satirical political banter
and the husband with the funny face splintering
what we thought our minds were with his guitar
spewing his drunken nonsense while his spectacles
fall from his slippery nose

Where is the who and the painter, beautiful
where are sounds when my dreams interrupt a boring slumber
i am singing a different song

Let's all start a fire

Anarchy is allocated with the fists of a hawk
choke-hold hold'um pinned down, straddled
whoever said "keep your chin up" lied
thanks pa, now look what you've made me
do?
scratch that

Kxerschze, receiver of dreams
We are not here to deliver your souls to god
we are not here to sell your souls to satan
But know this; that we are listening
and if you sing a song we like
our feet will be tapping to the rhythm of your heartbeat
as if we were in love