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Someone got stabbed in a Marshall’s with a pencil,
Or so I’ve heard.
Directly in the head, piercing through the skull
To the synapses and electricity housed inside.
The complexities of this act are refined and
Stripped away, reduced to a number,
Which is then dragged away to a line graph,
Labeled Crime Rates of the US.
A pencil’s supposed to be used for creation,
And, obviously, the contents of your skull are supposed to stay
Inside of your skull.
What a world we live in,
Where senseless violence will pave the streets like asphalt– no, hostile architecture,
Where verbal abuse is as common as the snapping
Of wood and lead.
Someone got stabbed in a Marshall’s.
They’ll find the lead in their skin, embedded between pores.
They’ll find the motive in a shaken-up mind, unsure and unbalanced.
And they’ll piece it together through impersonal cups of coffee tossed into the nearest trash can and three balls of red yarn.
What a world we live in.
Or so I’ve heard.
Directly in the head, piercing through the skull
To the synapses and electricity housed inside.
The complexities of this act are refined and
Stripped away, reduced to a number,
Which is then dragged away to a line graph,
Labeled Crime Rates of the US.
A pencil’s supposed to be used for creation,
And, obviously, the contents of your skull are supposed to stay
Inside of your skull.
What a world we live in,
Where senseless violence will pave the streets like asphalt– no, hostile architecture,
Where verbal abuse is as common as the snapping
Of wood and lead.
Someone got stabbed in a Marshall’s.
They’ll find the lead in their skin, embedded between pores.
They’ll find the motive in a shaken-up mind, unsure and unbalanced.
And they’ll piece it together through impersonal cups of coffee tossed into the nearest trash can and three balls of red yarn.
What a world we live in.
