Dust

The dust that settles round us obscures the anachronic
Mnemonics of tradition
And class fondly repeated
In cities where the living
Exist entombed by the dead
The dead are embalmed by dogmas they never knew by the living
Enmity swims with capital
In fonts of saliva and sin
Inoculating masochists against its dull dolour
The dust that gets in our eyes just before we start to cry
Is the same that fragments us, to anatomize our souls
Into the scattered infinite
It's true that you can walk
Blistered across burning anthems.
The same hummed by paper tigers crooned by soluble fish
It's also true i must say, Greco-Roman pediments
Truly love their masters
Because they end up in the clinics the next morning embarrassed
The next morning embarrassed
We, however, learnt our proverbs through carvings in boorish walls
But the dust permeates
Even through the thickest of all the breeze-blocks
It crawls in all orifices
But it is not louder than the voice of the MLDE



Credits
Writer(s): Paolo Volkov
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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