Michael McGuire The Last Days lyrics

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The Last Days by Michael Mcguire The Last Days lyrics ELECTRIC BABYLON PREFACE Some when (perhaps the present has already planned its future), We step into the life of a young man who is perplexed at what he sees as a world fashioned for the art of self destruction. There are rumors, there is death predominantly in the guise of what has become known as the chirp because of the high pitched wheezing that accompanies the illness. No one knows. Authority declines comment. Meanwhile most of the populous carries on business as usual although there are sporadic protests and riots in which the participants call for the immediate shut down of all industry and transportation and anything else deemed harmful to the environment. The people who take part in these riots have come to be called poets because of their seemingly quixotic ideals. Another group (unofficially led by a radio personality named Russ Lawler) called the red church is militantly opposed to any interference with what seems to be happening because they see it as godís will. Pulled this way and that by gravity and thought we watch the worldís will bend our heroís will into the grotesque shape of guilt, fear and doubt as he struggles to find the sense in living a life that is killing us. The last song is taken from the pages of a scientistís journal who was working to help solve the environmental problems man has created. THE LAST DAYS May nineteenth, the sky looks like hell turned upside-down, I guess the only invention man neglected was his salvation, but this thing happened so slow we didnít see it coming, yes it started so long ago when man found religion and lost god, the instant man fancied himself created rather than creator he tossed responsibility, itís ironic the red church essentially had this same idea, but somehow this never struck me so much as dying for dignity as for spite, man just never noticed the wake of destruction caused by his marvelous creation. June eleventh, I saw a man on the street today babbling itís happening itís happening over and over, he walked up to me and looked me in the eyes and said I keep having these dreams and Iím not in them, he said he must find Sophia and walked away he had the chirp bad he was beyond help, Iíve never seen the the chirp affect someoneís mental health but perhaps it was this world that did that, but then; to sad to ponder cause and effect, the world of possibilities couldnít help but fascinate but the possible always exploits the actual, and then money became the standard measuring unit for anything and everything, and the whole thing became a game of trust based on mutual distrust. June nineteenth, the government issued an order today no one is to go outside without their sunsuit or air mask, this may have helped about two years ago but not now, besides the planet itself is dying and we cant wrap it in a sunsuit, but the serpent will feed on its tail until dinner is over, everyone I work with is agreed there is no way to reverse the situation yet we work on it everyday, I guess itís just some kind of desperation or just another manifestation of the mania for possibilities, hope would be a superfluous ingredient in this recipe for doom, I wonder why I even write this but I guess even Mozart will be trash now. July fourteenth, I find myself more withdrawn into myself in a way I never have before, for the first time I really realize the value of my life as a distinction from rather than a part of everything, I guess Iíve always viewed myself as what I do not what I am, itís ironic though now I feel more a part of everything in a much more profound way, my existence is everything and only me at the same time, now it seems that life is the mystical experience and death just seems; easy, for some reason I keep thinking back to the man I saw on the street a few weeks back, there was something more than insanity in his eyes; understanding maybe? July twenty-fourth, things seem a prelude to chaos radio and t.v. are barely functioning, the machine is breaking down food is getting scarce suicide is a common antidote, John and Ann both died this week now thereís no work to do and no way to do it, if anybody ever reads this donít pity me scorn me, we didnít have the luxury of foresight just the excuse of hindsight but it was never to late until it was, I think Iím getting the chirp but I feel more sorry for the dead trees than I do myself, itís funny I still cant believe something like this could happen even now while it is happening, life seems god given and indestructible but than so did the sky. August ninth, I had a dream last night vivid incredible and heart wrenching, an angel appeared out of a fiery sky she slowly descended to stand before me, white gown and gentle face but armor across her chest and a sword on her side, I asked was she the angel of death she said no she was the angel of mercy, and shall we receive mercy with a sword? yes it is all that is left, I asked had we really lived off the pulp of forbidden fruit, she answered it needs be that these offenseís come but woe to the man by whom the offense cometh, and is life now no more than a dream is to the morningís wide eyed stare, the dirt will receive your dry seed but eternityís rain will always bring the blossom. August twenty-seventh, I am dying, I am dying, I am aug 93


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