The Mystery of Toast and its
Universal Place in my Heart
I got time on my hands and a toaster in my heart
And the place it takes me creates me
I will please be excused from the universe,
I will please be excused from this room
Does the history of it all bother me?
Does the last place on earth really exist?
I got the things I need together.
I got the realm of the angels to contend with.
I release myself heartwise and so forth but the tuna melt
The things I dreamed of went dry.
Does the sound of it create the hollow spaces in your mind with out illusion?
Does the drink until you fall apart and cry?
I will be there as a person in the room of us
And the room of us makes a handout of our collective disconcersion.
Make the dream a dream for us, the star and convoluted stance.
With the place around the places all but stored underneath my conscience,
I will pay the money out to try your hand at all oblivion.
(sound of money falling)
Don't make me think Ill think like you or you,
don't think that thought for one minute.
I am left out like so much else is left
and made to feel a certain way around the inside of my chest.
Do you really make a play for the end of things untold.
I go standing in the trouble of the magic part of life.
If the back of toast is broken in all familiar places
does the market value on me drop like lead balloons?
I will fight like demons unleashed to get my face above the hope that all else is left unknown.
With or without the drop across the clift,
my mind inside my mind, my way to the end of it all in time.
from Appliance-Centric Circles by Brendan deVallance performed at the Kitchen, New York 3-10-95