Like An Anvil - The Burning Hell

when you disappear in a photograph of yourself

stuck to your guitar at your parents' prom

and you know you’ve got to play that perfect chord

but your fingers slip and all the notes are wrong

your hands are half invisible and your band is freaking out

your future mom and dad don’t know that’s who they are

but then future dad finds courage and kisses future mom:

is that god, or just your skills on the guitar?

either way, the results are equal,

so just accept it,

just be glad

it doesn’t matter until the sequel

when the good old days go bad

everybody needs a genius scientist to tell them what to do

or at least a teleprompter to remind them of their lines

but sometimes you get so wrapped up in the narrative arc

you forget the details of the plot from time to time

and sometimes the other actors just can’t memorize their cues

and you don’t always have the budget for a second take

but as long as you can concoct some semi-plausible happy end

doesn’t matter if the happy ending’s fake

like an anvil,

a harmless anvil

a harmless anvil that falls in a cartoon

like the footprint of an astronaut

in a photo of the surface of the moon

so roll the credits,

cue the music,

turn on the lights

count the receipts and close the cash up for the night

find a teenage boy to sweep up all the popcorn from the aisles

i’ve had enough entertainment for a while

it’s time to go now,

but don’t be scared

take the wheel

while i punch in the code

it doesn’t matter,

we don’t need cars

where we’re going we don’t need roads