Apocalypse, And Good Bourbon

apocalypse, and good bourbon. the beat of the news feels like shovels digging graves by themselves... deaths without purpose, lives without purpose.... the cash register rings, someone else is evicted, another factory shut down! the stench of oppression is almost unbearable.... fresh manured fields of lies, pull the strings of the puppet, make him dance.... (you cant see them, cant touch them, they're insulated, shut off from the sounds of hunger and naked hearts beating!) and down the street an old man dies alone in a rundown house. the shades are pulled, no one notices... his old dog guards the body, waiting.... while two young lovers make love in the back of an old car... two young gay men hand in hand walking and talking.... two babies are born, and two more die.... apocalypse, and good bourbon.