APOCALYPTICAL TATTOOING BY PAUL CLAVÉ

dead flag blues

the car’s on fire and there’s no driver at the wheel

and the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides

and a dark wind blows

the government is corrupt

and we’re on so many drugs

with the radio on and the curtains drawn

we’re trapped in the belly of this horrible machine

and the machine is bleeding to death

the sun has fallen down

and the billboards are all leering

and the flags are all dead at the top of their poles

it went like this:

the buildings tumbled in on themselves

mothers clutching babies picked through the rubble

and pulled out their hair

the skyline was beautiful on fire

all twisted metal stretching upwards

everything washed in a thin orange haze

i said: “kiss me, you’re beautiful –

these are truly the last days”

you grabbed my hand and we fell into it

like a daydream or a fever

we woke up one morning and fell a little further down

for sure it’s the valley of death

i open up my wallet

and it’s full of blood

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