“In line for a number but you don’t understand.”
Arcade Fire
act one: we wake once again with opposable thumbs
fumble with the pickets and prescriptive lines
rearrange the display for passers-by
who are too dumb or too drunk on necessity
we’re given a gift but we’re wasted, so we waste it
act two: we look in the mirror and wait for feedback
wonder what tools to use to cut away at the wall
huddled with our sin inside a grizzly maze of halls
tethered to the wasted land with rocks and sky
in slow decay, ever dreaming of someday
act now! we are always almost there
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