by Brendan deVallance
Deja Links at
Prop Theater
3502 North Elston Ave
Chicago, Illinois
January 21st, 2011
The Script
Additional music by K-Os,
Ben Kweller
The Grim thoughts, the shadow puppet
Not boxed, not boxed in.
I see the fallen, felt the head kicked in, dreamed a dream of dry land as I sink to the bottom. Send for the sailors, send for the mistaken and the forgotten. Good ideas that are lost and found ideas before there time. I have handed the clock its walking papers. Some day cool, some day soon. The waters rise will not sway me. I see the fallen as those that fell. I see the hill but stay put. Long way to the top and back, I will stay on flat ground. I never knew the world could be like that. Look back to the good old days. The hand ringers and the barely breathing. Most swayed by Magic or the maniacal. I have a plan or could it be a plot. The world will not sit still for the dreams in my head. Laryngitis for those with no thoughts. A shadow for the puppets as Stars fill the sky. I look up hoping to see them, but it is hard from where I stand. Reality! Let’s go reality. Let us find the lost strands and tie back the rope. Shards of the world will not leave us to suffer. I have my hands full of dirt. But the message is the same: wash your hands. Let us kick the butt of those that get lost never to happen again. Got to get away to the good place. The hand shake deal that leaves us cold and alone. Nothing that kisses from rainbows wont cure. Trade away, trade up. Sadness is sad all crusted in drab. I seek the new kind of drab. Magic drips from the rainbows and moonbeams. My kind of magic, thoughtless but kind. Thirsty, not thirsty, I grab a drink
and swallow it down. Not thirsty
