Gentile Gentleman

Put up your defenses
Those electric-fences
Protect our gardens of garbage
Best made men
Like worms to a dead bird
Flock into oblivion
I don’t think that we’ve won anything yet
What are these rats racing against?
They just charge unquestioned
I never pay any attention
I never could punch straight through the door
More gentile than gentleman
Not a lightweight anymore
My pulse slips
I’m taking care of business
When I look at what my wilted hands have sown
Polish our pretenses
Just to numb the senses
Sweep the dust under the carpet
Best love-wreck
Your moods swing profusely
Sweating the small things
We all say yes, yes in the end
What are these rats racing against?
I know that I’m just one of them