Home Page Works Series 1-Quest To Be Whole Album 3-Void
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© 2006, Roy Stucky

The sidewalk tells me where I ought to stand.
The stoplight tells me which direction's banned.
The dummy on display conveys what any smart man wears.
The storm drain steam obscures the track that runs down my affairs.

I'm out of time.
I'm out of touch.
While rats race
I use a crutch.
I'm out of time.
I'm out of sorts.
Eclectic lines
Confuse the courts
Of social standing who hold weapons locked on me.
Will I step outside the gaslight of their Kafka Fantasy?

The movement of the moment does not carry me along.
Enamel coat conductors say my destination's wrong.
The ticket scalpers wait with yet another pickup line.
The evening's entertainment is adjusted for the blind.

I'm out of time.
I'm out of touch.
While rats race
I use a crutch.
I'm out of time.
I'm out of sorts.
Eclectic lines
Confuse the courts
Of social standing who hold weapons locked on me.
Will I step outside the gaslight of their Kafka Fantasy?

The margin punks who tantalize use shallow mind concerns
To sell us bitter heroes who know only how to burn.
The septic system swimmers are as dull as dental floss.
No man can be a rebel 'til he shoulders Jesus' cross.

 
Description Quotes Music Video Equipment History Notes Comments BUY
Prior Song Song 9 Kafka Fantasy Next Song
Home Page Works Series 1-Quest To Be Whole Album 3-Void