well, we can see the slope,
see the slide you will ride down…

what is your food, is it true, is it ok?
wearing my thoughts on my sleeve
pinning my face on a corpse that decays

and will turn into flowers…

flower seeds inside our flesh
and when we die, all of these flowers will rise…
what will you push in this lifetime?

pushing up poppies
pushing up mushrooms
pushing buttons…
pushing through fumes
pushing up tombstones
pushing ’round runes
pushing up buildings
pushing up smoke plumes
pushing up something
that couldn’t be seen
pushing up walls in between you and me
pushing up people
pushing up steam through the sewer
pushing through dreams for a more lucid future
loosen the noose
pushing mute points
push your computer right off of your desk
i’m a loser. i’m beck. when my mood is upset,
i’m the last days of elvis
and looking like death
i’m the first day of a new age
on a stage for a mic check
pushing a pen, wants respect!
our corporate government
pushes strong men to their death…
Joe Louis and Pat Tillman, represent!
pushing nag champa to cover the stench
pushing jane fonda towards vietnam vets
media push propaganda to get us upset
push the envelope, tell us whats next
whats up…
push the totem pole over, you’re fucked.