I wake
Scan the horizon for your heartbeat
Are you still there?
Tired is not a word
Words like weariness come to mind
Devastation is a place in time
So it's all dramatic, no pause necessary
This place moves at the same speed wherever you are
Which is way too fast
This is supposed to be poetry of oblivion
Towers toppling and gatekeepers crashing
But I've become plain and awful
Awful strange, awful funny, awfully, woefully, awe-full
An eyesore upon ragged earth and barren soil
Shoe less wandering upon her scars
I sit in this spot, Ben Franklin of all people looking on
Chicago hasn't got its heroes straight
Just on the other side of the road is a statue of Hans Christian Andersen
Maybe these men were important before Chicago got its own heroes
Like Al Capone, bang bang!
Or Ernie Banks, hey hey!
It all started right and ended wrong
"I miss you" went his poetry of oblivion
lost in so many words
I found this lyric torn
"blacktop fingertips...
black cat wail...
full moon's hiding...
when hell is on my tail..."
My bed is empty without your pretty face
The poetry of my sorrow is written in these words
Song Title: The Poetry of Oblivion
Artist: Billy Corgan
Artist: Billy Corgan