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michael mcguire - the last days lyrics

electric babylon
preface
some when (perhaps the present has already planned its future), we
step into the life of a young man who is perplexed at what he sees as a
world fashioned for the art of self destruction. there are rumors, there
is death predominantly in the guise of what has become known as the
chirp because of the high pitched wheezing that accompanies the
illness. no one knows. authority declines comment. meanwhile most of
the populous carries on business as usual although there are sporadic
protests and riots in which the partic-p-nts call for the immediate shut
down of all industry and transportation and anything else deemed
harmful to the environment. the people who take part in these riots
have come to be called poets because of their seemingly quixotic
ideals. another group (unofficially led by a radio personality named
russ lawler) called the red church is militantly opposed to any
interference with what seems to be happening because they see it as
god’s will. pulled this way and that by gravity and thought we watch
the world’s will bend our hero’s will into the grotesque shape of guilt,
fear and doubt as he struggles to find the sense in living a life that is
killing us.
the last song is taken from the pages of a scientist’s journal who was
working to help solve the environmental problems man has created.

the last days

may nineteenth, the sky looks like h-ll turned upside-down, i guess
the only invention man neglected was his salvation, but this thing
happened so slow we didn’t see it coming, yes it started so long ago
when man found religion and lost god, the instant man fancied himself
created rather than creator he tossed responsibility, it’s ironic the red
church essentially had this same idea, but somehow this never struck
me so much as dying for dignity as for spite, man just never noticed
the wake of destruction caused by his marvelous creation.
june eleventh, i saw a man on the street today babbling it’s happening
it’s happening over and over, he walked up to me and looked me in the
eyes and said i keep having these dreams and i’m not in them, he said
he must find sophia and walked away he had the chirp bad he was
beyond help, i’ve never seen the the chirp affect someone’s mental
health but perhaps it was this world that did that, but then; to sad to
ponder cause and effect, the world of possibilities couldn’t help but
fascinate but the possible always exploits the actual, and then money
became the standard measuring unit for anything and everything, and
the whole thing became a game of trust based on mutual distrust.
june nineteenth, the government issued an order today no one is to go
outside without their sunsuit or air mask, this may have helped about
two years ago but not now, besides the planet itself is dying and we
cant wrap it in a sunsuit, but the serpent will feed on its tail until
dinner is over, everyone i work with is agreed there is no way to reverse
the situation yet we work on it everyday, i guess it’s just some kind of
desperation or just another manifestation of the mania for
possibilities, hope would be a superfluous ingredient in this recipe for
doom, i wonder why i even write this but i guess even mozart will be
trash now.
july fourteenth, i find myself more withdrawn into myself in a way i
never have before, for the first time i really realize the value of my life
as a distinction from rather than a part of everything, i guess i’ve
always viewed myself as what i do not what i am, it’s ironic though
now i feel more a part of everything in a much more profound way, my
existence is everything and only me at the same time, now it seems
that life is the mystical experience and death just seems; easy, for
some reason i keep thinking back to the man i saw on the street a few
weeks back, there was something more than insanity in his eyes;
understanding maybe?
july twenty-fourth, things seem a prelude to chaos radio and t.v. are
barely functioning, the machine is breaking down food is getting scarce
suicide is a common antidote, john and ann both died this week now
there’s no work to do and no way to do it, if anybody ever reads this
don’t pity me scorn me, we didn’t have the luxury of foresight just the
excuse of hindsight but it was never to late until it was, i think i’m
getting the chirp but i feel more sorry for the dead trees than i do
myself, it’s funny i still cant believe something like this could happen
even now while it is happening, life seems god given and indestructible
but than so did the sky.
august ninth, i had a dream last night vivid incredible and heart
wrenching, an angel appeared out of a fiery sky she slowly descended
to stand before me, white gown and gentle face but armor across her
chest and a sword on her side, i asked was she the angel of death she
said no she was the angel of mercy, and shall we receive mercy with a
sword? yes it is all that is left, i asked had we really lived off the pulp of
forbidden fruit, she answered it needs be that these offense’s come
but woe to the man by whom the offense cometh, and is life now no
more than a dream is to the morning’s wide eyed stare, the dirt will
receive your dry seed but eternity’s rain will always bring the blossom.
august twenty-seventh, i am dying, i am dying, i am

aug 93

- michael mcguire lyrics

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