Nothing could ever be as beautiful or suitable for losing,
Though if it weren't for you and me:
Nothing here is gold-
Where cash is bought and sold-
Lies are taught and
Truth is old.
Talk is cheap for what it goes for-
Words are heaped and burned
For hours, because the warmth is needed-
Burn them slower.
No road could ever be as slick and unsuitable for cruising,
As when we collided towards our tree.
Nothing here is gold,
Simply fillings from the teeth.
Clenched tight to tongues,
Where bleeding sounds
Are poignant and sweet.
And bluebirds here are green,
From the radioelectricity which poisons
What we drink.
Where talk show hosts and TV stars,
All poison what we'll think.