There will be no further commentnNo defiant fist will liftnThese capitulating eyes will lowernFeet will shift andnTo the lone thoughtful oratornWe will give the shortest shriftnAnd let the soundbites eat the heart outnOf these lives that are a giftnnWe will settle, we will settlenFor the bottom-line, for lessnAnd we'll water ourselves down into the messnnA crow on every clock towernA rook on every steeplenShadows without shadowsnShoulders hunched toward the windnnA thick mist kisses office blocksnI look for other peoplenIn that cold expanse of windowsnDo they see me looking in?nnIn the dead hournPre-train and post-night busnWill we let the morning papers suck the life out of us?nnBut could you try, when I dienTo paint my shadow on the wallnAnd when these organs are defeatednGive the doctor free-for-allnOh cut me out, cut me upnLittle bits of me live onnIn drops of paint upon a wall, in lines of songnA line in a songnnFilthy streets cut dirty scarsnThrough gutless architecturenAnd the dead hour shift is fluoro, lit so sickeningly brightnCircles of the air, condensed are softening the coasternDust is just dead skin and hairnLeave your chair, take back your lifenYou see the buildings have begun to catch the lightnnCould you try, when I dienTo paint my shadow on the wallnAnd when these organs are defeatednGive the doctors free-for-allnOh cut me out, cut me upnLittle bits of me live onnI can feel someone else's breath filling my lungsnnOh cut me out, cut me upnLittle bits of me live onnMy heart in someone else's chest, these lines in songnA line in a song