‘Millenn-i-um’ x 2

Can you throw away the little sticks you hold?
Stop being told you’re growing old
There’s no one else inside but you
No one else, with nothing to do
But fly your own horse back to the source
While the aim of you is still new

If your friends confine you and you’ve fed them up
Things might seem so dirty and mean
Sickening in a starving dream
If the people all want consolation
In drugged out queues of isolation
From cradle to grave with no imagination
~ They won’t look at the stars!

May the little man in your heart
Find a new face, burn a new place of peace
In the lake of ice your laughing spirit escapes
Dreams drawing spirit gold
Creation won’t be bought and sold
Higher than the ache of fire
Higher than the ache of fire

I sometimes wonder just what’s left for me
Lapping up the milk of processed gods
Eyes collected at the TV steeple
Crowds like adverts for dumb-dumb people
Won’t get to see unless I break their signal –
And though my face fall right through a wall
Vain reflection’s worth nothing at all

‘Millenn-i-um Ma-an’ x 2

With gaping mouths and a religious stuffing
Of money to feed their cold grey boasts
Who will drive out these puritan ghosts
Possessed to meddle in the human future –
Hideous beasts in the beat computer?
A tense electric fence to numb the pain?
Or is it stone age gangs again?

May the little man in your heart
Find a new face, burn a new place of peace
In the lake of ice your laughing spirit escapes
Dreams drawing spirit gold
Creation won’t be bought and sold
Higher than the ache of fire
Higher than the ache of fire

‘Millenn-i-um Ma-an’ x 4

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music