The future meant for us is written in stone. There’s nothing we can do about it now.I lie in bed, furious, as I try to get some sleep within the gray twinkle of this smoke-stained room.An announcer dressed head to toe in black appeared on the TV I’d left switched on.The guest brought on for today’s episode said, “There’s no future left for us anymore.”While the news story of a missile attack against a terrorist encampment plays in the background,My dreams fill up with all my worries over the months worth of rent money I’ve yet to pay.Over these lives of ours you’d never know unless you looked from above,Grazing our heads as they go, all these missiles take to the skies.
What is permitted us are these missiles. What is permitted us is our pacifism.We want so badly to change the world. But first it must be blown to smithereens.What is permitted us is our artistry. What is permitted us is self-injury.We want so badly to be accepted that in the end we’ve come to hate everybody.
We talk about how awful everyone is. About how all of our lives are equally sad.Yet I’ve spent so many verses on how all that talk ends when you realize you don’t want to die.Each of the many motives of the 30,000 who kill themselves every year,Is used as material by we songwriters like it’s some kind of late-night variety show.Over the disgusting parts of life and the crusade to make it right,Grazing our heads as they go, all these missiles take to the skies.
What is permitted us are therapy and pills. What is permitted us is society’s approval.We want everybody to keep treating us well. So we keep pretending like we’ve been hurt.What is permitted us is religiosity. What is permitted us is materialism.And if you tell us it’s for the good of humanity, it’ll just become a dog-eat-dog world.
A proper noun like a shot heard around the world has all the force of a time signal.The missiles reach the zenith of their arcs, yet to reach the hearts of their targets.The inevitable conclusion of a life lived steeped in self-indulgence,Is unexpectedly linked with the anxiety of living in these dark times.
“And so, to this depressing and ultimately good-for-nothing world,”Or rather, to such a self-serving excuse, blow them all to kingdom come.
What is permitted us are days spent away from home. What is permitted us is the drop of liquid we spilled.We pray during this eternal night that all of our prayers will soon be answered.What is permitted us is corruption. What is permitted us is destitution.In order to gain even a single thing, we’re willing to risk everything we have.