I see sixteen levels, each story is five windows across, and about one in every three has a man on the balcony looking lost. And even from a distance like this, I can see that in some sorts, the option of falling from that ledge gives them comfort. But the building beside it doesn't have any balconies, and for that matter, people, as far as I can see. They're ghosts behind glass, they're tigers in cages, though not half as bold, or in the mildest sense, courageous. Each of their security windows is blinded like an oracle. Shuttered like their hearts so they're entirely inimplorable. And beneath their gaze, the streets down below, with people wandering like strangers, like sons in their father's clothes. They want to feel like they're slightly more important than the thousand other faces they'd promptly ignore, so well, well. They're like dogs, in the sense that they only care about seeing extensions of themselves, and at a drop of a hat, will find the world pretentious. Like walking dogs that only stop to find other dogs, we're wading though a culture and social setting so waterlogged. Like damp fur, that discomfort in touching it. Knowing it'll come off on your hands and stick. This city feels in a sense like a sick pet. With fur coming off in sad clumps, but he doesn't know he's sick yet. I once had to watch my dog swell like it was pregnant, but he was a boy, and it was cancer, so we sent him to the vet to see what we could do. The best option was to put him down in a day or two. Is that the same prescription for the world? In a sick way, I hope so. Because severing the sick is the best way that I know.
Lyrics submitted by NewOrleansSwimTeam