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poem - moet the poet lyrics

just who was it who told me
“i could take all your troubles away,”?
stop pointing the finger at these people
who struggle opening doors
watch it all coming up
keeping quiet about the things you don’t know
try to figure out
what you don’t know
just sit close to me
now l!ck the sweetness from my fingers
and tell me what’s new
you watch ’em congregate
around the bed you catches [?]
so watch em die
drownin’ in a bedclothes sea of sweat. [?]
get back to the dankness of your room
your soul has rotted
living with ghosts in the past
take the rotten roots
to and from town

and all the houses (that) are under the moon
could not give me any real satisfaction
but don’t take them away;
they’re all we have
and all they ask
is, “will we have time to spend our money before the end?”

yes, i swear blind
about the fictions you made
cause i know
that the joy we missed
will never touch the sky
and even if we did, i know
i don’t
want no part of the scabby hands
that cradled me from birth
their idea of the imma’ulate conception
is funny bein’ smashed
and all they do
is sing songs
about f****** in cars

father
tend to the things
that are broken in our house
mother, whys it come to these extremes?
can’t you see the meaning is huge?
it’s worse living here
spitting out blood
and living with fear
spitting in the face of construction;
slitting their throats

- moet the poet lyrics

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