Exist in Astorics

Astronomy in Astoria, ya
ain't real ; til ya write it
down ; watching time pass
its BAR exam and continue
to threaten me with its gnarled
hands, they're reaching
for my throat and in these last moments,
I question its authority,
its hold on us the majority,
but I realize I ain't no parrot
when I tell ya to wear it--
these colors ya be flying,
telling me ya don't partake, ya lying ;
fucking Winston Churchill once
said "ya can't be neutral on a moving
train," I'll say it again,

these things that I've said,
I ain't no parrot nor am I trying to be one,
not that there's ever anything new under the sun,
when the sun here is shrouded by clouds,
you and me fucking around downtown,
it don't mean nothing, nothing does,
Nothing means anything 'cept the clock with its
big man-hands on our throats, us the cancer
Earth wants rewrote ; ya
can either wear it on ya sleeve or face
the grief within, Jesus done savin' all
his men, where will ya run then? ; the circus ;
the circuits in ya brain rewiring,
didja know Wal-Mart's hiring?

aches in your brain leaving ya pragmatic,
dogmatic up in ya radical whack attic,
track-marked addict fanatic on sabbatical,
eating a bowl of cereal, shit's so surreal, but
God ain't in no attic, ya fanatic ; she's in ya kitchen,
radical whack addict, sneaking liquor from the cabinet,
while on sabbatical, grammatical errors be phonetical,
rhetorical, I ain't no parrot, muthafuckas. Don't
you ever forget, making all ya girls scream with ya panties wet,
ya radical whack addict playing Madden on your hidef set,
what kinda life do I needa have, what life do I live, these mountains I trek
I might as well scream in my underwear like a faggot off his meds
might as well melt instead, become a red, death that I dread,
hey muthafuckas, where's mah bread? I'll tell ya one
more time, better listen closely, profusely--

ya ain't real til ya write it down.

ya ain't real. period.