Digging For Windows

~Zack de la Rocha

fuck that bright shit
the spot or the flashlights
we in la ducking both
in the shadows with lead pipes
the days are all night

see if i pay Edison
no medicine
these blues ain’t more better when
my fever rise in the jungle
as quick as the price spikes
the days are all night

my future snapped like a rubber band
off my fold on a hand to hand
he drew from his waist
i put two in his roof
and i can still hear his screams
all night

now they ride their portfolios
like rodeos
rise every time my cherry glows
on the end of my cig as
the smoke blows through the bars
and the co’s laugh fades
as he strolls away
says i gotta pay
off that roll away
or its fuck your visitation days
and i pop off so in solitaire
i dream of offing these Fred Astaires
and the skin off my fingers tear
we digging for windows here
where the days are all night

this city’s a trap my partner
under the lights of they choppers
bodies tools for they coffers
not worth the cost of our coffins
i stare at a future so toxic
no trust in the dust of a promise
won’t mark the name on a ballot
so they can be free to devour our options
and just like you I’m a target
ill defined by the guap in my pocket
but the stage make figures
as quick as it off em
what Marley and Pac get?
i put these caps in capitals
leave minds blazed in they capitols
i step with a fury so actual fact
that my offense could be capital

we digging for windows here

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S

Back then the city seemed to be constantly dark and wet

 A churning vortex 

 Slick, massive, inescapable 

All we could do was sink below the density of alcohol

You clutched me

Your nails left scars

Deathmask

Perhaps unsurprisingly given that this piece was sort of inspired by the movie ‘Mishima’, the line ‘this decaying angel’ is based on the title of one of Yukio Mishima’s books as its usually translated into English ‘The Decay of the Angel’.

 

When Egypt buried kings
,Pharaohs, they called them,
(dwellers in the great house
of the body
)
they crafted death masks
unearthly beauty
they could wear over the fabric
and decay
:to show the Gods how perfectly
to craft replacements
like Mishima
I will try to carve my body
from the death mask
this decaying angel
mould brass muscle
over disobedient flesh
burn and file
the excess of years
the failure on failure built
recast pose and sweat
in supple forge
i will polish the skin with whetstones
smooth as the mask
smooth as marble
bleak and lifeless
lead painted face