a newer wasteland

in the dark wasteland of the night
i sit by the luminous blue light
of the screen and scry out
into a universe not made to be seen

the bladder emptied into a deck of hearts
and the madman on the golden toilet
will turn the cities into plasticine
and all our lives will meld like in a dream

the paradox of the pointed pointlessness
seems to grow like an ugly vest
washed too much on the hottest setting
but still the one we fit into best

walking in the bush, the family
at a hideout high in the treeline
find others who have fleed the jamboree
and drink the poisoned lake for tea

they say to me "what shall we do?
the world has gone to crap!"
and i wish that i could answer back
but the wasteland has got into me too

lets just hope the worst will soon be over
and some of us will float back up
and those that don't will be the heroes
their tombs will be the new ground zeros

their lives will start a century
of songs and mournful poetry
and living ours we'll think back often
wishing we could join them