That Melody Rebellion

A witch once said
If you’re over 30
And travelling on a bus

You’ve failed at life;

But real failure farts
It’s melting brass soundtrack

When you think of nothing but home,

When you insulate your bubble,
Provide, invest, protect,

Fill jars up with hope
And store them underground,

Ushering dust
And dancing for no one,

Only rattling when we dream
These random revolutions,

These fleeting yawns of chaos,

The kind that only happen
When the TV turns bleak

And starts to pretend
Real change is a nightmare

Where the bins lie on fire
And the clouds shriek all grey.

We’re all losers,

We’ve all stared at things
We’ll never attain

And dreamed
Of a gentle apocalypse,

A strange song from way up high,
A meeting of minds,

A fresh new thought
That just clicks,

That melody rebellion,

That dizzy hum and groove,

Like dry fingers snapping,
Withered bones cracking,
An old whisper popping.

We’re gone.

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