Rain against the glass.
All is dark. Your voice, lost, in
a haze of static.
(Here begins my attempt to write a haiku a day. Watch and laugh!)
Rain against the glass.
All is dark. Your voice, lost, in
a haze of static.
Nightly: a rollcall
of names, a medley of whispers,
sirens through the cold
clear night. Locked windows. Ghosts
in my bed. A blur of light
though the glass,
some distant dream. Fingerprints.
and the frames will freeze
see me on all fours—
—it's been a long time.
i was sitting on the roof of my house
with a shotgun and a six-pack of beers
(six-pack of beers, six-pack of beers)
the newscaster says the enemy's among us
as bombs explode on the 30 bus
kill your middle-class indecision:
now is not the time for liberal thought
so i go hunting for witches
i go hunting for witches
heads are going to roll
i go hunting for—
in the nineties
optimistic as a teen
now it's terror
airplanes crash into towers
the daily mail says the enemy's among us
taking our women and taking our jobs
the reasonable fool is being drowned out
by the non-stop baying baying baying for blood
so i go hunting for witches
i go hunting for witches
heads are going to roll
i was an ordinary man with ordinary desire
i watched tv, it informed me
i was an ordinary man with ordinary desire
there must be accountability
disparate and misinformed:
fear will keep us all in place.
"The 30 bus in Hackney, which is just around the corner from where I live, was blown up. [That song was] written when I was just observing the reactions of the mainstream press in [the UK] and I was just amazed at how easy it’d been to whip them up into a fury. … I guess the point about the song for me is post-September 11th, the media has really traded on fear and the use of fear in controlling people."