Nightlife: The March

Beware the fabled fantasy

Of Nightlife’s historic run

The pounding of this conscience

Is the product of your fun

The consequence is coming

Beyond the swinging gate

The upshot cruelly a downer

The crowd cries, “It’s too late.”

‘Twas a time of double-dealing

The participants stood two-deep

‘Twas a tale of the Lukewarm

As you claimed you were asleep

But that consequence was marching

Up to the swinging gate

Build a castle upon the Negative

And seal up your fate

Salvation is the Intrepid Father

Master of the blueblack cold

Gather ye ‘round the fire

Fight the frost as we grow old

Many moons ago was the Family

Longer back than most would think

Communion was for the prostitute

Laughter was for the drink

Music was the mockingbird

Basketball was the game

Friday night was a revolving crew

There or not, it was all the same

Next week Dinner was on the table

Vino and conversation did flow

New friends came to the counter

And so the legacy would grow

But Nostalgia played the Devil

And put Satan on the run

Fast right through that swinging gate

And the trouble had begun

Truth was chained to years back

In a cadence now unheard

You only have to march backwards

To truly hear the Word

Nostalgia’s equation is long division

The remainder a fragmented clutter

But you better gather up those decimal points

If you want to see your brother

Adversity’s got you seeing red

So swaddle yourself in rage’s robe

Tell the Scheisskopfs they can suck it

As you march across the globe

March backwards through this Nightlife

And punch Nostalgia in the nose

Sense the scents of staleness

In the nostril as it grows

If the eye is seeing fabled fantasy

Better then to gouge out that I

Wistfulness is the enemy

In Nightlife…we march to die