there are fleeting fits of reason between the sleeping and the drinks when a million different sensory experiences blink and its there within the momentary darkness you can breathe and be a form without reflection or debris there are bloody bouts of tenderness against the bonds of fear fixed in combat everlasting vultures circled ever near now they re placing bets deciding who will be the first to feast but we can flood the battlefield with song and beer barrel chested bankers buying billboards by the score placing all their eggs in baskets made of future futile wars now their children fight in microcosmic mirrors of their game and the messenger will always be to blame there are centuries of seasons turning white to green to brown cycling through each solar sequence turning temperaments around when this incessant spinning ceases making dizzy all our days we ll succumb to something stranger anyway to some disaster of a disorienting brand new day barrel chested bankers buying billboards by the score placing all their eggs in baskets made of future futile wars now their children fight in microcosmic mirrors of their game and the messenger will always be to blame