MICHAEL MCGUIRE


The Dreamers Landlord Lyrics

THE DREAMERS LANDLORD
© Electric Babylon Music Author: M.M.


She’s sweeping out the dust that has collected, in all the sleepy eyes of
the mornings apathy, every TV; every mirror has been infected, with a
blindness only first born sons can see, something has been forgotten
and is nagging, like a sock turned under at the toe, like the history of
dreams we’ve been dragging, it’s just something your sure you ought
to know, meanwhile nothing at all is happening anywhere else, though
your convinced it is, we just never know what to do with ourselves, the
focus of the camera’s blush; that’s show biz.
Smaller than a gnat; this caretaker of dreams, ah but the world is a
gnat hung in heavens hide, only the void of Virgo is what it seems, one
drop of water lost in the moon fed tide, over in the building where the
landlords lover lives, there’s a woman on her back in a pool swimming
meltdowns, she’s got the kind of blue only the makeup artist gives, she
and her dildo are busy breeding ghost towns, the tongue of the
satellite stutters in revelation, our hero’s gut digests the beetle bones,
and desire mixes with faith to brew desperation, dead and dying gods
prayers and karmic loans. With deadpan significance the night chews
up another day, until time is all that’s left of the meaning, the landlord
gives you two choices move or pay, and every building he owns is
leaning, he gets his clothes from the butchers tailor, gets most of his
best sex from his girlfriends mother, he’s got the heart of a prisoner
and the soul of a jailer, behind your back he’s your ex?wife; to your
face he’s your brother, there are eleven people moving with the eye of
the hurricane, where the weather is like the hungry stomach of a lamb,
and you have to water your thirst with a fistful of rain, but you’d have
to give everything you have; just to give a damn.
The sun gives shape to the same old new world everyday, that’s the
landlords deceit; he just rents the light, but the caretaker; she knows
the wingless way, and how to separate the yoke of day from the egg of
night, something other than the what could be is turning her vision,
there goes the landlords lover; she hates that bi***, who moves like a
piston while she drags her indecision, across the aching heap of Virgo
and the butchers ditch, black and white dreamers are being hauled into
labor camps, it’s hard to find a reason to live that wont kill you, the
landlords lover; she dreams false labor cramps, owe the price of
nothing and she will bill you.
Inside some minds eye in need of a lens, the landlord is constructing
gods and revising sins, incognito seasons build upon the arrogance of
his causality, and elevates this pulp fiction to high tragedy, but the
caretaker she continues; all on a beggars wages, she is always crushing
grapes and building stages, and the blue lady she wants to take the
landlords lovers place, but it will never happen because she’s got a
mirror for a face, the landlord he doesn’t believe in the butchers
charity, just the blindness of the dreamers clarity.
0ct98

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