A Monologue with the Æther

Self Is the Longest Journey

Lawn Animals

Lawn animals they are a sight. They gather on the grass making talk, Standing about in their expensive suits Like peacocks on the make. The women, trying to entice, Run away without going anywhere. They’re not really trying to win the race. The men, trying to impress, Think that they’re where it’s at, With the Money and the Car. Poor lawn animals, they’ll never learn That it’s only slowburn in the dark. They’ll never have any fun. They’ve got it wrong; Things can not bring happiness. When it’s all done and said, They should just use the gun.