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Laura Stevenson And The Cans
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The Wait
My life's work is waiting for a train to come.
Not driven by a living thing,
no free-will will I wait for.
My masterpiece is running in place,
charting distances I run,
lifting blocks but building nothing,
touching each one and walking off screen.
This isn't moving, break my legs
with the strength of 1000 won't you-
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take a once very capable brain and make it quiet,
make it sane and never able to work the same again.
Now that the alkaline taste in my mouth
it runs through my throat into my nose
and I know it's going to kill me...
It's killing me, it's killing me.
Oh the way the wait is killing me...
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