Written on Mute

Three hours to liftoff

There’s this cold hearted feeling

And a fog to the brain

A white heat from the sun

And a skid mark brain from beer

Here in the inebriated spirit of America we sit

Typing rubbish into metal boxes and thinking

Some kind of oppression must be going on here

There’s a violent upheaval of failure to this

But I don’t care right now, I’m busy, leave me alone

To me now there’s nothing more romantic than a woman

Left alone to tend the restaurants of the No Man’s Land

Between oblivion and getting on the plane

I have a laptop brother behind me

Listening to a crazed oriental program

And firing on all cylinders;

Just not mine

In the midst of other people I keep my girlie wallpapers hidden

But I type as fast as I ever have

Until the child, bearing toy, trips over my power chord

Phone booth kiosks, random security checks

That’s rock n’ roll

I’ll see you on the other side of oblivion

Be sure to hug me down at the gate