paranoia
is the burning bedroll
of
a blunt in the birthday daylight
halfway
up the haul of the white lion hill
overtaxing
the hysterical jags
as
the rodent
dark crawls on in
assuming
it need not even ask for blood
after
the late night takeaway
paranoia
disappears me
like im an experiment in a maze of mistakes
like its el salvador when the sun goes down
and paranoia
orders one shot of each and everything
in
the glass columns behind the golem bar
in
the bottleneck half hour of the tick tock
with
newcastle
browns
flat
abyss chaser
in
a dishwasher warm
half
pint glass
glue
leaked out the bottles label
is
a frozen teardrop of
tobacco tar
and
paranoia
hangs
my door key
around
my neck
just
in case you know tho i am rarely out
just
for the bins and that you know
cos paranoia says
anyone can get lost
in the lynchian depths
of a front yard anteroom
and
paranoia
says
the songbirds and the bluebirds call
for
the zipped files
on
a locked card
in
secret compartment
in
the back
of
my GPS
deactivated
mobile
phone
they
call from the palm trees
decapitated
stumps feathered
like corn
across
the white trash speedtrap street
and
my ego weighs in
and
my ego tells me
that
tho
i
have no wings no more to beat no more
in
judgement over the square mile
over
parliament
hammersmith apollo
borders jazz cafe
centre point
and Time
and All Creation
that
i should not worry
as
its clear-as-fuck its the mandela effect
or
CIA meddling in a black chopper backwash
and
the truth will out
it
says
the
truth will always out
or
never will
from fanpop.com
