TV Dinner
Acclimatized slowly to image distortion. Selling the wares and wearing so thin. Which is worse to be in or out of proportion? Documentality always stays in. Squarely screened and sat to face the facts, the content lost the meaning cause they didn't show the cracks. Credits roll and take their toll on the roads that shape the fields where the factory tractor ploughs the truth and buries what is real. Overlaid the essence with the smell of leisure time. Culture waste as public taste gets dulled and undefined. Belief in the disposable is just like being blind. So brighten up the packaging and put up a few more signs. "Eat this fast food. Read this. Buy Now. Main Course. Soundtrack. Discover just how. We win. You lose. Who? What? Where? When? Only joking. Sit back, then forget and start again." I've been told I've got a mind of my own, and they say you can't believe anything you're told. Well, I read how easy it was to make decisions. And I saw someone like you on the television.

Blind people must fall in love with a sense of mind, a sense of touch. But when you insist on finding shadows in which to kiss and down the lights to cover the sights of your nakedness, it feels so restrained. Are we really ashamed of what we posses? It is just nakedness. Feeling too fat, or feeling too thin. Needing some clothing to cover the skin. Thinking in terms of Original Sin. Not knowing where the other one's been. Afraid to discuss the difference between falling in love and physical need. A thousand distant painted looks staring from adverts and Top Shelf Books makes us afraid of what we reveal. How it's portrayed is not how it feels. It feels so individual. It feels so other-personal. Dressed up creates fiction under restriction. Fear of not being what the other one sees. Imagine contradicting what lies underneath. All the protection comes off in the end. Nothing left to judge you by, nothing to defend. Covered up the truth so long it seems it wasn't there, here it is so laugh aloud, or tell me why you're scared.

Small Talk
Vacancy! Room to Let any dumb ideas into this empty head. "Gospel Man" don't quote me please, it was the first thing I thought but now its been said. And you'll lead the conversations that lie ahead with the empty phrases by which you're led. Do you know what I heard the other night? Guess what so and so said to me. The majority of people were only being polite, couldn't be bothered to disagree. A social distance set by a liking of something hard to forget. A need to remember and recognize an inspiration that over-rides any hesitation or compromise, not relying on dubious facts in disguise. What you eagerly collect, and subsequently resurrect from acquaintances on TV sets, falls on distant ears. But when you tell it like it is, from your own ideas and what they give. Then we're all involved in the way you live and the distance disappears.

Time Control
I don't know how invented the watch, but it began a process that will never stop. At the age of 6 or 7 or so, it was a decoration that went 'tick-tock'. But then by 10 they'd invented the watch: portable guidance until the hands fell off. And a few years later it was luminous hands, then digital figures to help you understand. Conditioned by punctuality. Knew when to be there, but not where to be. We thought we could control the time by always knowing what it was. Now every action has a certain speed as we let time control us. Every technological step is faster than the one before. Watching the neighbors and fashion shows, to see if we need to know more. Desperate to be one-step ahead. Loving to be followed, but still needing to be led. So keep up the pace and keep in line. You're either in the race, or you're left behind. You may feel part of society, but the truth is more sublime. I said, "Stop! Take a look around you!" But you never had the time.

Dividing Lines
So busy picking holes in our skin, that stretches tight to keep us all in. That when what we thought were eternal friends have disappeared from the scene or changed their habits to suit themselves, we begin to know what it means to be choosing something outside the rules that no-one sets, but we follow. Demanding leaders and food for though, and its getting harder to swallow. Meanwhile the police and the tax demands are coming in harder than ever. We're raising our fists, but not joining hands for fear of being seen together with people in same mentality, but differently aligned. We've got Straightedge, Hardcore, this Core, that Core… too many dividing lines! Individual personal choices set examples, but don't create laws. We are not all the same as each other, but the difference ain't much at all. So, do what you like and let me do the same and maybe we'll do it together one day.

Media Men
With detailed precision nothing omitted, made the incision cut to what fitted. None of the trends, none of the friends of packing crew who sell us the image of who buys who. None of it fits, on the shelf it sits. What the rest of us have is being sold with a laugh by the Media Men in some hope for a trend. And when their ends meet the next pose on a street will be the new complete set of rules, sold by liars and bought by fools. When the cloth gets thin, and your shoes begin to show your feet, how far can you walk? To the billboard talk at the side of the street? When the radio times set the rate of decline to a bastardized beat. Does your sun still shine on the neon signs at the side of the street? Make the incision, it's an easy decision, rejecting the gods of consumer religion, fashion and postcards, setting the trends, pulling the strings of the media men.

Bag Lady
I just ate and I heard the change rattle in your tin. I point my eyes on distant blurred horizon me for charity, or coffee. Make the day go faster. Forty days, forty nights, forty currency exchanges. This is my corner said the bag lady. This is my bed said the bag lady. This is my wardrobe. This is my larder. This is my blood donor card. And you can keep all your opinions, as long as you let me keep mine. Some of us want some justice. Some of us want some dignity. Me, I want to be left alone from people pretending they want to be me. This is my can said the bag lady. This is my hand said the bag lady. This is my living - so what are you giving?

First Impressions
Closed off, he took her by the hand and coughed to cover an understanding loss. Perhaps his state could be put across without saying whether it was good or not. Decided? Hardly! Couldn't give a toss! Played up to a crowd like Jonathan Ross, or some such personality deceit. But the left the situation with something more complete. That scared the hell for its obvious showing of a well inside full of deeper knowing that said, "That was all wrong" reversed the role from weak to strong. Decided to whom he really belonged and later felt the pain it cased. Like a victory without the war, incomplete and nothing more than selfish: what did he do it for? Taking time out to say aloof had made the problem twice as bad. With a hatred of the actual truth he cut the little bond they'd had. Don't take anyone for granted every first impression slanted. Next one came as a surprise and opened up some guilty eyes. Take a sip from each other's cup and find a common one to fill, and if it tastes good fill it up, and if it doesn't let it spill.

Wet Cement
We went up to the building site, saw the bricks and the concrete piles and watched them all working, building muscles and no one smiled. We stood there and watched them, staring back in complete contempt. "I'm building a building" signed his name in the wet cement. We walked through the cemetery, social tombstones in black and gray. Someone one had a bunch of flowers, talking sentiments felt ok. We stood in the shadows; feeling it was that time of day when everything gloomy hits the light as it fades away. We came to conclusions, knew that life was a paradox. So many illusions kept alive until the old ones dropped. Demolishing lifestyles, building up all the tower blocks. If life is so sacred, why spend it all in a man-made box? We stared at the empty shells, passed a smile and cried a lot. While all this was passing by, no one stopped to see what they've got. They took it for granted, used the space for a parking lot. We'll kill off the real world, allocating the beauty spots. Industrial death camps. Man made something and then forgot. Knew what it should look like. Trod on nature and said, "Well, why not?" But you cannot replace it, just take a photo and watch it rot. And bury the feeling until no one knows that it really meant. Got caught in a landslide and left a name in the wet cement.

Circular Vision
Please don't let me see so many problems and disharmony without knowing the reason, without knowing the facts, and knowing that knowing can be hard to desire when the opposite says 'relax.' Please don't let me see so much peace and harmony that I forget to use my eyes to be aware of any shadows behind the light. Circular vision and the need to know: one says let's go everywhere, the other sets the sights. Please don't let me view through so many windows I can't see through every depth has a surface tension spreading the ripples in all directions. Making waves can be saying goodbye but it's also saying here's the reason why. Please don't let me see what I've seen before without noticing the rate of change. Please don't let me see without looking or nothing will ever be strange. Please don't let me see the viewpoint without knowing what the background is. Please don't let me see the framework until I've seen if the picture fits. We woke up didn't feel like sleeping. We spoke up didn't feel like keeping the silence that holds us apart so much as we struggle to find the human touch and a natural urge of discovery. Checking out what we weren't allowed to see. Looking around the reality factory.

Social Insecurity
Growling as I smile at stares from the other site of street. Is it the speed I'm walking at, or the shoes upon my feet? I couldn't afford the Baseball boots. That's not a game I play. And if you'd rather hang about, I won't get in your way. If the words you backhand to your friends were meant for me to hear, I'll show you a better way to spend your breath over a beer, or a coffee. Come on mutant head! Let's drop the social games, call the bluff, call it enough, but quit calling each other names. There's hardly any difference in the nature of the threat. Some like to be remembered by the reaction they can get. Others need security in a certain social set. Both are too aware of what they still yet have to get. Is no one ever satisfied with being what they are? If you show me all your barbwire, I'll only show you scars. But tell me where you got it from, and what it costs in friends, and I'll start to get a picture of a person, not a trend. Ignorance and affinity to outside influence rejects the inner feeling at anyone's expense. What provoked attack was the nature of defense. The weak and strong in knowing that such strength is all pretence. So while you're staring at me, I'll be grinning back at you. At various intensities we'll both know that it's true that what each other represent is an image we've been fed. If I'm a fucking waste of space, then you're a mutant head. So let's discuss these attitudes and find some common ground. Just doing that is ground enough to exorcise the sound of insults, sights of malice, inbred scorn and ignorance. Once beyond the posing we can find the relevance.

Invisible People
Invisible people with invisible hands holding out very obvious collection cans. Anonymous people with anonymous jobs, hurry past for fear of being late for the boss. Both will say its not the way I intended it to be, knowing that the other guy has all that they could need. The homeless have got all the time and of it to share. The workers have got all the cash but none of it to spare. Invisible people with invisible feet, taxicab potential, knowing every street. Anonymous people, with anonymous cars, rolling up the windows as they drive on past. If these were all your relatives, then which one would you feed? Would the power you get from money disappear if it was free? Isn't it therefore obvious that in this society there is poverty and hunger due to other people's greed? Invisible people, from invisible homes, lost a job, the rent went up, out on their own. Anonymous people, with anonymous lives, reliant on superiors to keep them alive. Cause when it comes right down to it the structure is the same. Control requires acceptance that you have to play the game. The power of money trickles down, decreasing as it goes, and out there in the rain it would be used on food and clothes. But social guilt, the barrier to giving what is grained to those who have less of it, cuts the last link in the chain. Invisibility comes from being constantly in view. Ignorance is the passive stance of saying it cannot be true. Reality shapes itself around perceptions of the self, until we really need it we refused to offer help. The state that creates homelessness thrives on this attitude, until we smash these limitations and take a wider view.

It's a fine line with drops on either side. Instant reactions: being undecided would lose a balance unrecognized. Don't leave me alone! Don't touch me! Could just as love those he despised, or vice versa - a social supply of any extreme you could need to arrive at points unchartered part through fear, (don't touch me) part through reliance on getting this near (don't leave me alone.) Having regular good times usually late. Passing through the uncertain state - through the Flinch Reactive Zone, where no one stands completely alone. When togetherness tenses, just like talking over fences. Ignoring the barrier by keeping it there incase the candle starts to flare too brightly for the eye to see so much at once. Ok, hold it there. Don't leave me alone! Don't touch me!