Tick, clock shock.
Brain on the sidewalk.
Sunrise, black coffee.
Another day, same old prophecy.
Greyhound through the Nowhere.
Names blur in the rearview mirror.
Words scatter like Benzedrine.
On a page, unseen.
Time, a junkyard of yesterdays.
Broken watches, forgotten plays.
We're chasing the NOW down a blind alley.
While the future's a ghost in the transistor radio static.
Smoke rings form a cathedral.
Dissolve 'fore they reach the steeple.
A laugh, a sigh, a subway's roar.
Then it's gone, knocking at some other door.
Mind's a cracked hourglass.
Each grain a dream that didn't last.
The past is a fiction, slick and neat.
The present's a buzzing, incomplete beat.
Time, a junkyard of yesterdays.
Broken watches, forgotten plays.
We're burning the NOW for a transient light.
As the universe winks, going out for the night.
Mad to live.
Mad to talk.
Mad to be.
Gone, by the time you read this footnote.
