Static/Cadence/Rhythm

ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum...ba-bum...

Static.
Stars explode.
Television screens switch on.
It's all the same, really.
You're asleep.
You're awake.
You're high, you're drunk, you make a mistake,
and it's all the same.
Static.

Cadence.
Hearts beat.
Feet on the street.
Buses, cars, trains,
aeroplanes -
around and around and you're feeling insane
but there's order
there's rhythm
and although there can be a schism
- entropy, you understand -
that drives your heart into your hand
and makes you clench a fist...

Are you wondering what you miss?
You're already dead
but the cadence
the slow dance
the psychedelic trance
the babbling nonsense
the endless streets
and behind it all the sovereign silence
it's all the same.
Cadence.

I think that it bears repetition
that there's nonsense in all things
and yet there's a rhythm
a thief in the night
or terrified eyes taking flight
I live in a glass house
and I'm throwing stones at the ceiling
but I'd give my last crumb to a mouse.
Do you understand what I'm leaving?
There's chaos and order
in the sound of my breathing
in the heartbeat of rodents
in the scraps of a hoarder
that rasps out his last
under a pile of newspapers
that he could have had moved
if he had just thought to ask.
Cause and effect, cause and effect
There's nothing wrong here
there's no sign of a defect
We'll slump to our knees
for a dollar and death
and the fuck of it all
is we might say please.

Static.
Cadence.
Rhythm.
Death.

It was worth a mention.