The World After April

Pinned like a butterfly
 Preserved under glass
 Not much air to breathe
 But enough to sleep, or to burn
 
 Watching life pass by
 From inside this diorama
 As the slowly settling dust
 Dissolves the world into gray
 
 You drift without direction
 Through the world after April
 Yearning for that lost 
 Living color
 
 And the aliens with bleeding hearts
 From the far side of the moon
 Are reaching out to you
 Are you still listening?
 
 Lost out on the sea
 Of limitless liminality
 Treading water, sinking deeper
 Stop waiting

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Production Notes:

A song about the kind of depression that sucks the air from your lungs and leaves you immobile on the couch keenly aware that the static in your head is stealing your life.

The title and the second stanza are a reference to The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. Le Guin. The film adaptation was a favorite of mine growing up, and I was reminded of it by a timely conversation with a friend one night in the courtyard of The Milestone Club.

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Equipment: