Eloise sits,
|
this privileged corpse,
|
a mundane pace offers no struggle.
|
|
Danny holds tight,
|
chrome death kiss on a platter,
|
he answers like raid to a hive--Oh.
|
ba-da-da-dada,
|
la-da-dada-da-da-dada-da-dada-da-da-da...
|
|
(What do you want to be?) Who do you want to be?
|
Or would you rather die here tonight?
|
This is an empty mural of cubicles and apparel.
|
Draw business with syringes,
|
a stethoscope can hear the faint ticks
|
of a nine to five.
|
Have you ever seen a life much sadder?
|
Distill your blood,
|
still you climb,
|
still you climb.
|
Oh...
|
|
-----------------
|
A Manifesto of Tangible Wealth
|
| Gatsby's American Dream |
