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It’s a scrambling kind of life
it could finish any time
of hard to locate station
a flickering picture kind
of over supply of days
then always exhausted time
of ambient desperation
a keening wave of sine
And really baby really
that would probably be fine
Never sure if what I thought
was a clambering up a climb
wasn’t a pivot down wasn’t
a slow decline
When you’re always scrambling
you’re always digging
down into the hungry lime
The deep moronic base
The ruthless icing on the cake
the puling soggy centre
makes for sentimental paste
Profane geography does
the range of dividing make
I couldn’t mander the gerry
I drove my car into the lake
Nothing made sense anymore
not that it ever did
Nothing makes sense anymore
not that it ever will
A little early in the piece
To be from my senses released
A little green
for a critical break
Still I drove my car
into the lake
When you’re not dying
you’re not dying
you’re not really
living not really
the thing you reach out to touch
it isn’t much it’s touchy feely
It’s a scrambling kind of life
a spanning of barely par
A scrambling life that isn’t
Well they rarely are
Heaven has always been on earth
it’s for the bankers and killers
magnum daddies and their
pretties mercenary gorillas
It isn’t for me anymore
not that it ever was
It’s all just a little bit fake
so I drive my car into the lake