In the lost angels of the Bush night
I embrace anger over the imprisonment of reason
psychos rule and anyone who talks logic talks French
Irony and surrealism are my self defense
my head averts the unbearable pain
lurking near my soul
The Death of Beauty
Working a passion for technology
Bush gangsters don't even pretend to love sunsets
or a god that glistens in the energy of dreams
To embrace this loss?
too great is the damage
no weapons existing to protect me
The despair following my escape
into the trees with a power saw and smog
Avoid the greatest pain
combating for reason's return
Pray that beauty follows its friend