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​Zhuangwho

This song is by Carl Hauck.

A child wrapped in wonder, staring wide-eyed at the sky

Guided by a weathered man quoting billboard lies

Skylarks soar among silver sheets with glowing seams

Over fragments of corruption held aloft by rusted beams

A vendor selling seeds to men to plant for future Eden

While his stock boys in the cellar stir cement

Is this balance perpetual, and progress just conceptual?

Will hunger always call a hand to feed it?

Though scoreboards speak of dynasty

And cracked pillars whisper ruin

There's a boardwalk between air and sea

That sings a different tune

Give it all the time you want

An era or an instant, but for each

Shot of hyperbole

There's a pond somewhere to chase it

Pouring through magazines, examining the shells

Forcing study of anatomy, new philosophies of hell

A solid tone blends with many songs of utter dread

Butch and Sundance leave the building, twenty-seven dead

Oh, the joy of riding trains and taking aim at roaming horses

The rationale arcane, unexplained by any source

Is it boredom with contentment or implicit self-defense,

Or frustration with the imagery no longer making sense?

Though scoreboards speak of dynasty

And cracked pillars whisper ruin

There's a boardwalk between air and sea

That sings a different tune

Give it all the time you want

An era or an instant, but for each

Shot of hyperbole

There's a pond somewhere to chase it

As ventricles and vessels clog with nuts and bolts galore

Extra condiments and toppings aren't the problems anymore

Who needs tears or feelings with assurance of stability?

Veins for shielded cables, brains for spreadsheet tables

Only in this place could one score locker room blow

Abstain from lucid inquiry when it would surely hurt to know

An absence of dignity and surprising lack of shame

Unannounced, Unprovoked, not easy to refrain from

Though scoreboards speak of dynasty

And cracked pillars whisper ruin

There's a boardwalk between air and sea

That sings a different tune

Give it all the time you want

An era or an instant, but for each

Shot of hyperbole

There's a pond somewhere to chase it