After a few seasons of weather and weathering
The shed became see-thru
While cassette tape translations are fading
Life during peacetime drives me crazy
My dreams in non-meridiem frequencies
The radio runs through the dawn regardless
Early morning dialogues on the front porch
Some strain of smoke in the air
Speaking on suffocation and the daily strolls
The familiar smell of warmth stored in the street
The glimmering glass avenue
Like shattered stars on my battered desk at night
Virtue has died again
While you're set on enjoying the fruits the Empire provides
I'm working behind the sun's back
Mud and blood look the same at this hour
With my hands I control the sound
As plebs, we lie down