The Amazing Kreskin

In the raining park the chessmen play,

The faithful atheists refuse to pray,

The steam-works weep, the addicts do not care,

Crowd of cold people stand by and stare

The garbage eaters, their many retainers

Come to collect all the foul remainders

The smoke hangs heavy, the wrecking ball swings

In the clockwork of a collapsing thing

Wasted plastic empire's golden age, chemical wedding

Citizens in their refineries cheer the nuptial bedding

The hourglass is turning

On a shore of iron, cutters, and clippers

Paper, rock, rock, paper, and scissors

On a road of skulls their story moves on

It's a bumpy ride and very, very, very long

In the blue sky the seagulls fly over garbage.

Are we the ocean? Are we the desert?

Are we the garbage? Who's to say?