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Take for a ride to nowhere





We are all made up of stars, nay, steel
revving and moving
If not for these states of our being
we are only as useful
as a Moreh quilt in the summers of Delhi.
But we don't care for the land, Moreh or Delhi
This land is your land, your land, my master thinking animals.


And I'm only a dreamer;
the dreams are my reality,
even if all the realities are a farce.

Come on,
Riders and drivers of the land, unite!
You have nothing to lose but your balls;
Bigger cages! Longer chains!

Maybe I'm not a Mercedes Benz
but I assure you with my fist clenched:
Eat the rich, and yours truly,
in every left lane that you are on daily,
I'll make you feel important as the fuel.
Let them carry on their prittle-prattle:
"The legitimate racket of the ruling class."

And my sensuous grace loves to kindle your lustful nature,
And I can carry the believers to the end of the world
And I can carry the lovers to their heavens;

Loverbirds of the land, unite!
You have nothing to lose but your love!

Back home, back home, back home
I can take the heads of the states to the whorehouses
on the well-oiled machines, lovely views through the windscreen
I can take the kids on the streets to the classrooms
"Clearly it is not a sufficient condition."
Embarass Narcissus, put him in the cone of shame
For you I would, if you steer me clear of all the filth galore.

Ride me, my back is bent,
I'm only made of steel;
Ride to your destination.



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