March On Moscow

Criticism, lyricism and witticisms
Can only take you so far
And the hardest part about
Falling flat, face down, on the floor
Is that the dirt whispers in such sweet tones

It’s cool down here, calm and
Safe so stay a while
In the end who gives a shit
Pray the angels gotta spare pair of wings

But agnostic, without a prayer
And clinging tightly to far too many cares
Daring to open the box a second time
May be one step too far

Far better to discard the dice
To catch the coin midair than
Risk the tainting teasing tongue

Far too many pronouns to pronounce you
As anything more than another lost youth
Pushing thirty and declining in desperate denial

So yeah, hell yeah; part three
Third time lucky or a bridge too far
You’d best not march on Moscow
In March, May or any other month

You’re full of shit and bathing in it
Wading through rivers, thick with filth
Yet you emerge glistening, gleaming
Flawless, every single time

It’s all quiet and just a front
A fascia, a facade, that slips
Then hastily stitches back together
To maintain a new regime, a radiant smile

A little too perfect
A little too plastic