Sub-Domestic Lyrics

Put this confession in your sensitive files.
Here's some kindling for the schizophrenics.
The new sick sleepless ex-patriot congress
is living sub sub sub-domestic.

If sanctuary still exists,
its among the shaking fists,
seeking out a living free of
the postures of politics.

Plant a paintbomb in the market.
Sing it to the whispering bats.
Beneath the poison traffic,
caught up in the wires.
Echolocation. Call your targets out by name.
Spray cans and stencils,
moonrats and flowerpot snakes.

If sanctuary still exists,
its among the shaking fists,
seeking out a living free of
the postures of politics.

Reconstructive scavengers,
termite sympathizers,
all sick and sleepless,
caught up in the wires.