They Say That We Are Beautiful

The infinite task is tiring
My legs move like hard, slow cogs in a framework that I just can’t jam
I look ahead and they’re all still jogging
Smiling and synchronized
When will they realize I’m not cut out for this kind of thing?
And I have no control. And I have nothing but control.
What am I supposed to do?
Jump from an aeroplane to the world’s blue floor
Let the waves smoke my carcass like a back-porch spliff
Or get back to thinking I belong with this team
Hold in complaints because nothing here is wrong
Thinking on those days where we’d do nothing but lay
On the sandy boardwalk of an abandoned coastal fag town
We felt that fire dripping from our wings
As we watched the laymen place down stones
I heard they shot all the fat kids for a hundred dollars
And made the lines look straight and narrow       
I am not a part of these things. I am the whole.