I am a dancing bear
You are a magazine
We are a mess of holes
Shaking from head to toe
If we only knew the answers we could print them up onto T-shirts
We could sing for revolution, we could fight all our wars and win them
Or while away the summer days in a day-dream
None of this can be bought
None of this can be sold
Safe in the frame we find
But for the letting go
You can hide your desperation from yourself and from your children
But you cannot contain the terror, or your loss of poise and diction
This phantom life is cast aside, at the moment you most need it