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Michael McGuire
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The New Math
I stood there balking at New Babylon's gate, Collected my thoughts passed thru I've got a date,
Take a deep breath of oxygen and exhaust,
It's hard to believe that one day this will all be lost,
Man back to matter city's bones back to dust, When all this acid rain makes the heavens rust,
I guess it's beautiful it might as well be,
Shining a light directly in your eyes expecting you to see.
It all adds up; it all adds up; it all adds up to this, Fifteen minutes of fame and a sub-atomic half-ironic bliss.
Got these long questions with these short little answers,
Media-mongoloids and comic-book-cancers,
The infrastructure's exoskeleton has gone soft, While architects and politicians respectively sky-scraped and scoffed,
That guy was a stock broker now he's an end times preacher,
If god's a mathematician the devil must be a math teacher,
I need to empty the trash in my head,
I can't tell memory from meaning; what I shit from what I said.
It all adds up; it all adds up; it all adds up to this,
A bankers daughter's dimes and a stem-cell-research implant-soul-church kiss.
Walking and wondering where do I fit this equation,
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When does an overtaxed dream become a tax evasion,
When you're a child the whole world seems a working-wonder,
Till you're old enough to see it for its plight of plunder,
And shapeless-shadows of language-landscapes draw the city,
Not even the rain-born gutters drain any pity, You're born either dumb enough to see the light or smart enough to be confused,
But that just dictates the style with which you are abused.
It all adds up; it all adds up; it all adds up to this, The first thousand digits of pi and a death-squad floor-sale ground war pell-mell piss.
The wrecks that survive main street's ballistic code,
Watch the buildings breed and the dead end streets erode,
When the empty engines of the revolution have been embalmed in rust,
These fossilized circuits will double the bandwidth of their lust,
Meaningless number sets will chart meaning's empire,
And the dead will be reborn upon this live wire, Now I've got to find my date somewhere underneath the night,
Nubile and neon the city's gradient critique of light.
It all adds up; it all adds up; it all adds up to this.
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