Starving for Conversation - Apoc

Boredom, the fruit of glum indifference

You can hear it hearken through the chatter of these pigeons

You can see it startin' as they clamor through the kitchen

You can play your part or you can see what you’ve been missin'

This party is played out!

But I’m tryin' one last time as I make my way out

Guess I shouldn’t have stayed out

But I’ll give ya one more chance, whatcha' got to say now?

I wanna talk about new ideas

They wanna talk about the new Ikea

How ‘bout politics, religion, science?

I can see plain the disdain in their silence

I know better, so I bolt for the bar

My brain goes numb from the smoke in the car

They’re vain ‘n they’re dumb, but they’re broken ‘n scarred

City’s like a cell block;

cold ‘n it’s hard

The boring pageant of immortal sin’s

Got the bartender beaten as he pours my gin

It’s hard to play the hero with the heart of a whore

But I ain’t sayin' sorry for my smarts no more

Saints and satyrs in search of the infinite

Paint gets splattered, the earth starts to spin a bit

To make these matters for worse, they try to limit ‘em

You can break ‘n batter these birds, we’ll live to sing again

Chorus:

I would walk a mile for the keys to the moon

I still wanna smile while we speed to our doom

Been a season or two since I needed a move

If dreams are for fools, this is boredom in bloom

Well, it’s been a while since we peaked from the womb

Put ourselves on trial in the zenith of youth

Whether bleedin' in blue, or still stealin' for food

The meanin' eludes, this is boredom in bloom

Lookin' to the aisle while we kneel in the pew

Join the rank ‘n file, got some breedin' to do

When they feed you a tune, you concede that it’s true

You just heed to their cue, this is boredom in bloom

Just another style, but we deem it as ‘cool'

You can teach a child why we need to consume

These are pieces of you that are seen through the view

Of a screen that is skewed, this is boredom in bloom

We can not consume what we can not buy

We don’t have to bloom, but we have to die

Testaments and tombstones always lie

A floral festoon, E-N-N-U-I

These wings wanna sing if we let them fly

These kings know a thing about the empty sky

But these finks wouldn’t shrink from a dead man’s cry

Nor blink at a drink, you can bet your eye

These kids wanna tell me how they write a blog

Not start a revolutionary dialogue

We die like dogs tryin' to fight the fog

Been city so long, startin' to like the smog

The psychogeography of cerebral slums’s

Got us mauled by mixed media ‘n feelin' numb

Appalled by this feelin' that the dream is done

All forced to face what our freedom has won

Chorus