Shooting Rockets (from the Desk of Night's Ape)

Caution, hot ashes

The girl says to her first kiss

They stuck eternity inside a bird's fist just to watch it fly

Just to make it go

Just to let them slip away

Don't ask me how I know

I just do

Night surgeon dons his robes

To take apart a fellow amateur

Well I've heard it once said

One gives what one gets

Oh I didn't go out into this world

Just to get stung by rich mans hornets

Who amongst us has left these things undone

Who let these animals into my kingdom

A blind doe learns to work the rig

A once thin man turns into a pig

The endless groves where my soul pukes the night away

The problem as I see it

I was messed up

On a tangent I was wrong

They mix them strong

And I was partial to the feeling

It's a terrible feast we've been stuffing our faces on

A terrible breeze from the east coming on

Bearing the scent of our one hundred first kills

You love her you leave her

You try to achieve

But the vision that she has from the start

I've got street despair carved into my heart

I've got street despair carved into my heart

My dear didn't you hear

A chorus is a thing that bears repeating

And the problem as I see it is

Girls stay away from that shit

Saw you in Swan Lake you were great

Saw you down in Strathcona square devouring an AfterEight

Who cares I didn't mean it

For your last encore

You sawed yourself in half

It was just you and your raft and this crummy requiem

Shooting rockets

Run or fly

At some point I had to ask why

I had to show you a world not tethered to disasters

But this would prove impossible

I snuck a look inside your skull and said

Don't look now

But Gretchen's seeing red again

The truth is a thing to coax out of it shell

The truth on this you and I are going to tangle

Off treacherous bliss off

First you come in all sweet

And then on tiger's paws you retreat

Into a darken nether shadow region

Hey are they still serving that piss

Shooting rockets

And it'd be true what they say

Were they to say why yes I dig the scourge

It's not that I quit

It's not that my poems are shit

In the light of the privilege of dreams

Alive she cried once now alive she screams

Shooting rockets

Praise be the delightful muezzin tending his flock

Praise be those alabaster hands running amok on your body

They love you in spite of your lame scene

We live in darkness the light is a dream you see

Shooting rockets