Catching whispers on the phone
But the whispers get away.
Making entries in our diaries
With all the things we think they say.Can you hear it?
I can't hear it!
Can you see it?
I can't see it!We've been feeding the vermin,
Now they're hanging around.
Can't we take back the sermon
That we tossed to the crowd?
Obsessed with the excess
But stuffed with a crumb.
The lessons progress less
As professors succumb.
They're craving confusion
When starved of sense
And graven confusion
Has been heaven sent.Can you do it?
I can't do it!
This is the way the sick people play:
Hands in their pockets, goose bumps on display.
This is the way the well people drink:
Mouths on the spigots of the sick people's sink.
In the town square,
In the city hall,
In the war room,
On a conference call,
They set the date to drop the bomb
And sit and wait with perfect calm.
I wanna do it!