Machine Gun Double Rainbows

When I go to sleep at night,

I don’t dream any old nightmare,

I dream of machine gun thunderstorms,

With awfully pretty,

machine gun double rainbows.

And slowly yet surely,

we are becoming apart,

of that awful machinery, 

that is running our awful worlds.

But for us,

there is no way to run away,

Cause they are coming

to get us

anyway.

The winds of ignorance

drag the heavy clouds upon us,

And meticulous, metallic rain droplets

pierce the ground like metallic seeds of despair.

I would wear angel wings

if I could

carry the weight,

of all those innocent tears.

Once again, we dream,

beautiful machine gun

dreams,

with beautiful machine gun

babies,

Produced in the same old factory.

Thus, once again,

Eden becomes merely imaginary.

Can you hear the drumrolls?

If so,

you shall listen more closely,

because drumrolls.

They are not.

Footsteps coming closer

and a metallic hand,

knocking ever louder,

of an old friend, 

we all chose to forget.