A New Days Desolation
High Tech moms with 3 wheel strollers
Do time trials
In market isles
Ever watchful for the elusive TV bargain

High Tech husbands with lap top holsters
Seek forbidden affairs
On train platform stairs
Their odd scene dreams, like trains run twice daily

High Tech kids with catch your eye phones
Text at light speed
To fulfill the need
For lonely status and hooked up peer pressure

And on the corner over coated agents watch your house for signs of ignobility tethered to the dead horse of the American dream,
while stop light cameras flash obscene portraits to gullible fools careening past honor victims with castrated clits, whaling to the
soundproofed wall of regret that drowns out the whop whop of helicopter prop cops blaring out their warning to union members to
stay inside or risk coronary arrest for their forgotten hopes of southern comfort and American beer Sundaes

And me I’m thinking ‘bout you
And listening to Dylan
Who once more is fillin’
My empty head with thoughts of desolation row…